


The Last Valyrians

by TheJackofBlades



Series: The Last Valyrians [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Aegon VI, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Late Daenerys Introduction, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Politics, R plus L equals J, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sibling Rivalry, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 87
Words: 400,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJackofBlades/pseuds/TheJackofBlades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe for the Three Heads in which Aegon Targaryen VI was not ferried away across the Narrow Sea but was raised secretly in Westeros, being prepared and guided for a future in which songs and laughter cease and die unless he can stop it.</p><p>Where Jon Snow received word of "Arya's" Marriage and suffering at the hands of Ramsay Bolton and accepted King Stannis' proposal to be legitimized and marry the wildling princess Val. As what is your honor and duty worth at the stake of a sister or brother.</p><p>And of Daenerys Targaryen the Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Queen of Freedom Bay when finally within grasp of her greatest desire finds that Westeros has no desire to be liberated. Is it better to forsake vengeance and what one knows is justice for the prospect of a future out of your hands or to gamble with the lives of thousands to save millions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Era Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate universe fic. The story is just as it is in cannon up to right before the Purple Wedding, where the story will divert and character's arcs will change. First ASoIaF fic and I'm still getting a hang of writing in this style. Don't hesitate to critique, advise, or suggest ways for the story or me to improve, as I don't bite and can take criticism.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Universe for the Three Heads in which Aegon Targaryen VI was not ferried away across the Narrow Sea but was raised secretly in Westeros, being prepared and guided for a future in which songs and laughter cease and die unless he can stop it.
> 
> Where Jon Snow recieved word of "Arya's" Marriage and suffering at the hands of Ramsay Bolton and accepted King Stannis' proposal to be legitimized and marry the wildling princess Val. As what is your honor and duty worth at the stake of a sister or brother.
> 
> And of Daenerys Targaryen the Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Queen of Freedom Bay when finally within grasp of her greatest desire finds that Westeros has no desire to be liberated. Is it better to forsake vengeance and what one knows is justice for the prospect of a future out of your hands, or to gamble with the lives of thousands to save millions?
> 
> Epic length story with slow pace that as of chapter 59 has just reached winds of winter timeframe.

Sansa:

The crowd assembled erupted in applause as the many Lords and Ladies of Westeros make their entrances to the Red Keep. Some atop horses and others riding in wheelhouses. Sansa hears Lady Margaery’s handmaiden Elinor screech.

“Look at all the people down there! Oh and look at Ser Garlan with his wife Leonette Fossoway.”

The royal family watches from above as they watch the guests to the wedding of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery, make their grand entrances. Sansa sat beside her husband Tyrion as the dwarf of a man slowly sips on his goblet of wine, clearly quite bored with the event. Looking far to her left, Sansa watched as Margaery's face lit up upon seeing her older brother Ser Garlan. Sansa couldn’t help, but feel she would react the same way if her own brother Robb was down there. _But my brother Robb is dead._

As Sansa looked at the older man down below, riding on his chestnut horse, she did see a resemblance between him and his younger brother Ser Loras. But where was Loras beautiful and clean shaven, Ser Garlan was broad and handsome with a short brown beard.

Having taken notice of Sansa’s attention towards the Tyrell boy. Tyrion smirked at her knowingly, completely understood why she would be interested. “They call him, Ser Garlan the Gallant.” Said Tyrion with a chuckle..

 _Ser Garlan the Gallant …_  Sansa repeated his name in her head. As Sansa heard a deep sigh of boredom and frustration, she quickly peered towards King Joffrey, who in a stunning display of Kingly manners, loudly cleared his throat and made his frustration known to everyone around him. _Joffrey seemed gallant at first, too_. Trying to placate her betrothed, Margaery quickly clasped her hand around Joffrey’s and gave him a bright smile. Sansa had to give her friend credit as not even Joffrey’s own mother had succeeded in controlling Joffrey up to this point, but yet Margaery seemed to do it with simple smiles.

As the envoys continued to make their way into the Red Keep, Sansa’s eyes were instantly drawn to a banner which depicted a bright silver seahorse on sea green. “Who is that?” Inquired Sansa to her husband.

As Tyrion strained his neck to see the sigil Sansa directed him to, he first paused in thought and then answered her. “House Velaryon of Driftmark. Lord Monford aligned himself with Stannis Baratheon after King Robert died …” Then he paused again so he could dab at the grotesque scars on his face. Sansa once remembered him telling her that they sometimes itched when he would sweat. “But Lord Monford died on the Blackwater, and his son Monterys is the new lord of the house.” As Sansa tried to make out the true appearance of the comely man leading the Velaryon house who rode a pale white stallion, she swore she saw a look of jealousy on Tyrion’s face, from the corner of her eye.

But as Sansa spotted the silver and gold haired man at the head of the Velaryon envoy, her stomach turned to knots. _Gods … he’s so handsome, almost as handsome as Loras._ “Does Lord Monterys not have a wife? I don't see her with him.” She said.

First Tyrion looked to Sansa with a smile threatening on his lips, and then he looked back down to the envoy below, before he shook his head and chuckled out. “Well I don’t believe so, as he is only eight years of age I believe.”As confusion filled Sansa’s head she looked to her husband, forcing him to relent the truth. “No, the so-called Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark is still home, probably eating his lunch or practicing his reading and writing. That man down there, is his uncle Aurane Waters. He was captured during the battle and then bent his knee to the crown.”

Seeing a group comprised solely of mounted men on white horses, Sansa looked to the banner above them, which displayed the dual swans of the house Swann. Looking to Ser Balon Swann who stood guard behind Margaery, Sansa noticed a fleeting look of joy in the Knight’s eyes as he peered down at his family’s arrival. When Sansa looked for the leader of the Swanns, she remembered hearing the name Lord Gulian Swann once before. But she also distinctly remembered hearing that the man was quite ill, and could not travel to the wedding. “Who is representing House Swann?” She asked Tyrion.

Tyrion gave Sansa a look of pride, for knowing the truth that Gulian Swann was not down there. Tyrion then pointed a stubby finger down at a black haired man leading the group. “That right there is Maric Storm; younger brother to Ser Balon. His father Gulian wrote that a chill had overtaken him and that his heir Donnel is still too wounded to travel, so he suggested his bastard take his place.” Tyrion then lowered his voice so that only Sansa could hear him. “Cersei was absolutely furious and completely against idea of letting a bastard take a place on the small council, and she told my father it was insulting. So as you can guess, I was all for it.”

As Sansa tried to gain a better look at Maric she ultimately failed as he was then blocked by the Rosby sigil on a pole. After Sansa failed to get a good look at him she settled back into her chair and subtly asked Tyrion in a whisper. “Did the Swanns not support Stannis Baratheon?”

Tyrion himself then peered over at the imposing Ser Balon Swann and he quipped back to his wife. “It’s complicated … Lord Swann himself would not swear for any side and plead illness, just as he is doing now, but his heir Donnel did side with Stannis while his second son Balon fought for the crown.” Tyrion then let out a light chuckle in a failed attempt to lighten the mood. “I can only imagine what side his bastard was playing. But he is quite a comely lad to be honest. I still fondly remember hearing him perform Jenny’s song at Renly’s name day three years ago. I imagine he’ll sing at this wedding too, you’ll probably enjoy it.”

As the ceremony started to wind down and only the lesser and insignificant houses started making their entrances. Tyrion stood up and excused himself, telling Sansa that he must go and perform his duties as Master of Coin and he was followed closely behind by the sellsword Bronn who as always, gave Sansa a brief bow before following closely behind his employer.

Sansa felt torn over the choice of making an excuse to leave early or staying and enduring her boredom. She had her decision made for her when the young handmaiden Alla Tyrell informed her that Margaery would like to meet her in the gardens for lunch. As Sansa excused herself from the parapets, she was surprised to only receive a passing dirty look from Queen Cersei, but no real objection.

Sansa navigated the many halls and corridors of the Red Keep and she saw many new faces and old, but unfortunately she still heard many of the same whispers she had gotten used to. But it meant little to her anymore as she forced herself to keep her head high and keep moving. As she arrived outside of the garden parlor, Sansa saw Ser Loras and Ser Balon guarding the ornately designed doors. Hearing laughter emit from behind the doors, Sansa swallowed her anxiety in the presence of Loras and curtsied before both men of the Kingsguard.

“Good day Ser Loras … and to you as well Ser Balon.”

“Thank you, Lady Lannister.” Responded both men. “You look very beautiful today.” Added Loras solely, along with a smile that never once failed to melt Sansa’s heart and knot up her insides.

Feeling a blush erupt on her face, she panicked and quickly murmured. “Lady Margaery had requested my presence.” On her word both men nodded their understanding and moved out of her way, allowing her to pass by them.

Before Sansa passed by, Loras gently grasped her arm to stop her and whispered in her ear. “Margaery is in there with my grandmother, along with my brother and his wife. I just thought you should be prepared.” Releasing her arm, Loras stepped back and allowed Sansa to pass.

As Sansa walked through the doors, a rush of chatter and giggling ran through her. Looking for the Queen to be, Sansa saw two richly decorated tables made of marble which were centered in a colorful garden of reds, yellows, and blues. At the rightmost table were many of Margaery’s handmaiden’s who gossiped amongst themselves while eating pastries and deserts. But at the left table was Margaery, who along with the Queen of Thorns, conversed with a bearded man who wore a bright green and white outfit with two Tyrell roses emblazoned on his cloak.

“You summoned me Lady Margaery?” Sansa called out to the Tyrell girl.

As Margaery looked to Sansa, a bright smile broke on her face. “I’ve already told you Sansa, you can just call me Margaery when we are together like this.” As Sansa sat down at the table beside the Queen to be, Margaery continued. “Sansa you must remember my Grandmother.”

Sansa then stole a cautious glance towards the aptly named Queen of Thorns, before bowing her head respectfully. “It is nice to see you, Lady Olenna.” Sansa said politely as she sat across from the tiny old woman.

“Ahh yes … hello to you to Sansa.” Olenna absentmindedly replied, clearly already unimpressed with Sansa’s presence. Olenna then turned to the bearded man who Sansa recognized from earlier in the day. “This is my grandson Ser Garlan.” With a look of amusement she turned to the man and asked him. “And what is that little nickname they have for you? The Chivalrous? The Brave? Oh yes, it was the Gallant … how clever of them.”

As Garlan chuckled at his grandmother’s jape, he stood to take Sansa’s hand. “It is good to finally meet you, my Lady.”

Caught quite off guard by Garlan’s display of kindness, Sansa bowed her head to him. “I can see why they call you the Gallant, Ser Garlan.”

Showing off her bright smile, Margaery then implored her brother to tell Sansa of how he gained his nickname. “I used to be a plump little boy when I was younger and as you can imagine, people can be cruel at times, so my older brother Willas came up with the name 'Garlan the Gallant', so I didn't befall the same fate as our uncle Garse the Gross.”

“Always a sharp one, my Willas.” Said Lady Olenna, having obvious pride for her grandson.

“Why don't you introduce Leonette to Sansa.” Suggested Margaery.

Ser Garlan agreed to his sister’s proposal and moved to the second table, leaving the three women alone. “So how is your husband treating you?” Asked Margaery in a whisper.

“It’s complicated. He is not nearly as awful as most people say he is. He can be very kind.”

A loud snort then came from Lady Olenna Tyrell. “If you ask me he was quite the letdown. I’d heard for years about the famous Imp and all I met was brow beaten bookkeeper, who simply wanted to push the costs of the royal wedding onto my family.”

“So it’s not as bad as you feared it would be then.” Exclaimed Margaery with genuine happiness for Sansa. “So tell me, friend to friend, have you …”

Not immediately understanding Margaery’s innuendo, Sansa then uttered in confusion. “Have I-”

Smirking at Sansa’s naivety, Margaery leaned in close and whispered. “Are you still a maiden?”

“Umm, yes … me and Tyrion never consummated the wedding. He promised me that he wouldn't force me and would wait until I wanted to.” Replied Sansa while blushing.

“Good ... but tell me will you ever?”

Sansa looked back and forth between grandmother and granddaughter before she answered. “No … I don't think I ever will.” Looking around carefully for any eavesdroppers, she finished. “And he’s a Lannister … they killed my family. And regardless of how kind he’s been to me, I can never forgive that.”

Before Margaery could respond, they are greeted to the sight of Ser Garlan returning with his wife in tow. Lady Leonette Tyrell looked to Sansa like a kind women. She had bright blue eyes along with a cascade of blonde hair, she was shorter than Sansa and looked quite dainty next to her strong husband.

“It is so nice to meet you. Margaery has told me so much about you.” Said the women as her husband pulled a chair out for her.

Taking his own seat beside his wife, Ser Garlan quickly added. “My love here is quite the accomplished harp player. Mayhaps she could teach you to play sometime, my Lady,”

Nodding to her husband’s suggestion, Lady Leonette took Sansa’s hand into her own. “Oh, I would be more than happy to teach you if you desired. It can make such beautiful melodies that can brighten any day.”

Unable to hide her excitement at the prospect of learning an instrument like the harp, Sansa quickly replied. “That would be lovely, thank you, Lady-”

“Please call me Leonette, Sansa. I would very much enjoy it if we could become as good of friends as you are with Margaery.”

Margaery then let out a small chuckle and japed back to Leonette. “Well I don’t know if I can just allow you to steal my friend from me like that.”

A couple of hours later, and after more than a few desserts shared around the table. Ser Garlan stood and excused himself from the group of women. “Forgive me, my Ladies, but I fear I must excuse myself.”

“Going to visit your bastard are you?” Olenna asked with a deceivingly kind smile.

“Grandmother you mustn't speak of Lord Swann like that.” Chided her granddaughter Margaery.

“Lord Swann is it? I didn't know that craven Gulian Swann died? And even if he did Maric would still be a bastard, so I don't see how he’s a Lord ... or was it a problem with how I called him a bastard? Either way I don't see what mishap you believe I've made.”

“Are you friends with him?” Sansa asked Garlan innocently.

Answering for her husband, Lady Leonette explained to her. “You could say that. Maric squired for my husband many years ago, and he even lived at Highgarden for a time before-”

“Before that ox of an Archmaester finally decided that the boy needed to see more of the world, and whisked him away to Gods know where. I don’t know if I ever saw the girls of Highgarden cry so much as when he left through those gates.” Said the Queen of Thorns with a slight smirk on her lips pruned lips.

“I’ve known Maric ever since I was just a boy. Truthfully I’ve always thought of him more like a little brother than a friend. And I haven’t seen him for at least a year, so I was just hoping to meet with him before the welcoming feast tonight.” Garlan bent over to give his wife a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I'll see you all at dinner tonight I presume?” Inquired Garlan, which caused all three women to nod in varying degrees of care. Before leaving the garden however he bowed respectfully to the other table of handmaidens and sparked more then one blush amongst them.

“So you must have never met Maric before, then.” Said Margaery, as Sansa absentmindedly nibbled on a lemon cake, she was forced to quickly shake her head. “You will be absolutely swooning after you meet him, and not to mention if you actually hear him sing as it is just simply magical.” Added Margaery, making sure to emphasize the word magical.

As Margaery went on about Maric’s supposed good qualities, Sansa zoned out while her thoughts drifted to her last remaining brother Jon. Remembering how she used to ignore him, she then remembered how her mother used to resent him and forced the issue of Jon leaving for the wall. _I hope he’s safe_. Prayed Sansa.


	2. A Meeting of the Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.' Rhaegar believed that his son would be the savior, but Rhaegar was slain on the Trident and his son was murdered by Gregor Clegane. But the real Aegon was not killed that day, and his story has not found it's conclusion.
> 
> Alternate tale of Aegon VI and his role in the future of Westeros.

Tyrion:

 

As Tyrion paced back and forth while waiting his guest, he would periodically look over at the door expectantly. Sighing out loud in annoyance he palmed his goblet which is filled with a rich red wine.Seeing his disfigured reflection he then downed it’s contents. Hearing a slight picking noise, Tyrion looks to his sellsword Bronn and sees the man tapping the edge of the heavy oaken table with the tip of his knife.

“Well?” Asked Tyrion in annoyance.

“I don't know where he is.” Said Bronn while he peered down at his employer with a bored look. As Tyrion sat down next to Bronn, the sellsword filled his cup to the brim.

Having arranged a meeting with the newest member of the small council two days ago by raven. Tyrion half expected the man to put on his best form to try to impress him. While his other half thought that the man wouldn't actually care what Tyrion thought. As Tyrion stared over at the heavy doors to his meeting chambers, he reflected on his meeting earlier in the day with the Red Viper of Dorne. Oberyn is looking for blood … and if my father doesn't give it to him, it will mean problems.

“This cunt is starting to annoy me.” Spat Bronn after an extended and uncomfortable period of silence. “You said he agreed to meet just before the sun went down and-”

Bronn turned in his seat and looked at the dimming sun. “And look at that, the sun is already half down and I'm still here.” Exclaimed the sellsword in annoyance.

Before Tyrion could answer, both men are drawn to silence as voices from beyond the door ring out and after a quick exchange, the doors slowly swung open as a pretty and dark haired lad paced through the doors with a look of amusement. As the man approaches, Tyrion sees a bull of a man following closely behind and feels relief that he asked for Bronn to be here as well.

“Ahh good day, you must be Maric Storm. I was beginning to worry that you got lost on the way here.” Said Tyrion in his most polite voice.

As Maric looking back in forth between both Tyrion and Bronn, Tyrion feels as if he was studying them. Maric then flashes a brief smile before he sat down. The short and squat man however remains standing behind Maric, with his large hands resting on the back of chair.

“I do apologize for my timing, but I ran into an old friend on my way here and … well, we just lost track of time, but it is nice to finally meet you Lord Tyrion. I’ve have heard many tales about you.” Said the black haired boy graciously.

“I hope at least some of them were positive. Many people just love to tear others down, but I think you’ll find I’m not as bad as they say.” Said Tyrion with humor in his voice.

As Tyrion truly looks at the young man, he finds himself a bit jealous. Tyrion then finds a very stark contrast between his black hair and his deep and dark violet eyes. Letting his gaze wander upward, he peers over the large and older man noticing at first thick neck and large jaw along with his balding head with white hair poking out of his nose.

Before Maric could answer, the large man behind him flashed his red stained teeth and replied. “Some did have only the worst things to say about you, but from my experience you need to look in between their words for the real truth.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I know you my Lord.” Replied Tyrion in confusion.

“Marwyn. I’m an archmaester at the Citadel, Lord Tyrion.”

Unable to hide his surprise at Marwyn’s answer, Tyrion quickly poured both men a cup of wine. “I’m honored to meet both of you. But if I may be so bold, why are you here?”

Answering for the archmaester, Maric explained. “He’s been my teacher for many years. I suppose you could say I started as his experiment, but he’s looked after my education since I was still learning to talk.”

“Ah, that must have been quite helpful in your learning, having such an experienced and wise man teaching you. I’ve actually read the Book of Lost Books, it was quite an interesting read, so I must ask, did you really find three pages from Daenys’ journal?”

“I did. I found one page in Qarth from a rug merchant who claimed to have found it blowing in the wind. While the other two pages were lost within the bowels of the Citadel, hiding right under my very nose.” Marwyn chuckled.

“I very much would like to view them for myself one day. Perhaps when the war is over and the realm has found true peace I could.”

“Perhaps Lord Tyrion, but I have guarded them very carefully as not even those grey sheep know where they are kept.” Said Marwyn, while he carefully sipped the wine in front of him.

“I’m sorry? But what are grey sheep?” Asked Tyrion.

“The other maesters Lord Tyrion. It is my nickname for my supposed colleagues. As most of them lack any ambition for discovering the secrets still left in this world, and resign themselves to simply follow the herd and not think for themselves.” Marwyn then emptied his cup.

Not going unnoticed by Tyrion, is Maric’s still untouched cup of wine sitting on the table, but as his eyes lingered on the cup, Marwyn quickly took the wine and downed it himself. Feeling something amiss with that, Tyrion shot a quick look at Bronn who responds in kind, having noticed the same thing.

“Well we do have some important matters to discuss so I suppose we should begin. Would you like me to refresh your cups?” Asked Tyrion, trying to fish out the meaning of what just happened.

“None for me. I like to keep my wits about me when discussing matters of the Kingdom.” Replied Maric casually.

Gripping Maric’s shoulders fatherly, Marwyn added. “Forgive him Lord Tyrion, but this one is still young and struggles to hold down his wine like a true man. But I on the other hand would appreciate that.”

After filling Marwyn’s cup with the sweet red, Tyrion begun. “I understand that your father had not formally supported Stannis and as such did not send his full force against the city. But I also know that your older brother Donnel did first march with Renly and after his death he joined Stannis Baratheon.”

“He did my Lord. But it was without my father’s approval and he was punished for it I assure you. I can also relay to you that those men that fought for my brother did so against direct orders from our house.”

“Yes, your father told us as much in his letter. I must also ask about what support you mean to bring to the crown in these troubling times?” Before Maric could answer, Marwyn whispered into his ear. “Is everything alright? Asked Tyrion in confusion.

Maric then smiled and shook his head. “No everything is fine. We still have nearly our entire garrison along with whatever conscripts we can take from the surrounding villages. According to Marwyn, he believes our numbers should be around eight thousand troops, maybe more.”

“And I assume you have a way of transporting these troops.”

“We do. While the Stormlands are in chaos right now, the roads are quite dangerous for large armies to travel and with the widespread looting on the southern Kingsroad leading from Storm’s End. I’ve been forced to make alternate arrangements for them to be transported by the sea, but it will take some time as you must understand.”

Now dreading the thought of relaying this information to his father, Tyrion tried to hide his annoyance and replied. “I don’t suppose you could speed it along at all? We will need every loyal man we can get to assault Dragonstone.”

Putting on a overt show of regret and dismay, Maric explained. “The traitor Stannis Baratheon had hired nearly all of the sell sails in the immediate area. And thanks to your brilliant battle plan, most of those ships are now under the Blackwater. So my father sent word to the nearest sell sail fleet in Lorath and they sent word back that they would set sail for Stonehelm as soon as possible, But I do humbly apologize for this delay.”

“Well if there is nothing you can do, then I can’t complain. I also understand that you brought a substantial amount of gold to the capital for the crown, just for my information as Master of Coin, how much was given exactly?”

Marwyn reached into his sleeve, retrieving a scroll. Passing it to Tyrion he explained  “I counted it myself just before we arrived, I assume it will be more then enough to make up for Donnel’s betrayal.”

Upon reading the sums, Tyrion figured the number to be around forty thousand gold dragons. Which equated to around fours years of tax for the Swanns. Finding the number more than acceptable Tyrion admitted. “That is quite the generous amount. I assure you it is more then enough and your loyalty will not be forgotten.”After grabbing a letter on the left of the table, emblazoned with the King’s seal, Tyrion gave it to Maric and summarized to him as Maric opened it. “The King humbly requests that you Maric Storm take up the position of Royal Adviser.”

As Maric read the letter Tyrion noted a faint smirk on his lips. “I accept.” Was his simple response.

As his response came, Tyrion thought to himself how strange the small council has come to be. Along with myself, we have a dwarf, a eunuch, and now a bastard. The only thing we’re missing is a cripple and it will be complete. Although I’m sure Oberyn’s hatred for my father and Mace Tyrell’s hatred for Oberyn will be more then enough for entertainment.

“Then with that I welcome you to Kings Landing. If you need any assistance please do not hesitate to ask. And with that, you must forgive me, as I still have many duties to see to before the wedding. It is a very involved affair preparing for a wedding of this size you must understand.”

As Tyrion stood from his chair, his actions were mimicked by Marwyn and Maric who waited for him to pass before they followed.

“Of course, I understand completely my Lord. I assume I will have many tasks as well, quite soon. Perhaps I should cherish what ever leisure time I have left. I assume I’ll see you at the welcoming feast tonight.” Said Maric.

“Yes, I'm sure you will, it was nice to meet both of you maybe we can continue our conversation later tonight.” Replied Tyrion over his shoulder.

“I would enjoy that very much Lord Tyrion.” Replied Marwyn cordially.

As Tyrion seaw both men through the doors and locked it behind them, he threw a tired look at Bronn, as the sellsword poured himself another goblet of wine. “That was an interesting meeting.” Tyrion said as a chuckle escaped his lips.

Bronn in response shrugged his shoulders. “That older one seemed on edge and suspicious to me.”

“So you noticed it too.”

“He seemed tense when he first walked in, but it wasn't until he drunk the other one’s wine that I really cared enough to watch.”

“I may have found a potential ally in King's Landing with them, but I need your help.” Said Tyrion before he downed the rest of his red wine.

“And who do you need me to kill now?” Asked the sell sword, sounding quite tired.

“I don’t need you to kill anyone this time ... no this time I just need you to learn all you can about that boy for me.” Remarked Tyrion as he stared down at the reflection from his cup.

After several very eventful days leading up to the wedding, Tyrion heard nothing from Bronn since he had asked him to dig up dirt on the duo. After the early breakfast between the Lannisters and the Tyrells. Tyrion felt dread at the coming wedding ceremony after the fiasco earlier in the day, but trying to focus on happier things, his thoughts drifted off to Shae. While he thought about his coming plans of marrying her to Ser Tallad to keep her close, he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Asked absentmindedly Tyrion through his door.

“Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.” Replied a familiar and cocky voice that sounded amused.

As Tyrion rushed to get Bronn inside, he took a quick moment to study the outer hall for any potential listeners. After spotting a servant cleaning the floors, Tyrion slammed the door shut and locked it. He turned to the sitting room and spotted Bronn, who had his feet high on the table’s surface while he worked to remove his gloves.

As Tyrion patiently waited for Bronn to speak, he received only a look from the sellsword that told him to pour wine. After filling two goblet with a dornish vintage, the sellsword began.

“Don’t know if I’ve ever had such a tedious job as this one before. Not that I’m complaining at all, because it was a nice change of pace not having to kill someone.”

“So what did you learn? Does he have any perversions I could use? Or is he already loyal to my father or sister?” Asked Tyrion as he sipped at the sour dornish vintage.

As Bronn tasted the wine wistfully, he paused before he shook his head. “It was pretty uneventful. That boy is rather boring to be honest. That maester with him was the fun one.”

“What was he doing?”

“Well he usually sneaks out of the castle around midnight and heads for flea bottom of all places. And then he went whoring. Rather normal for most men, but what I’ve never seen before last night was a maester start a tavern brawl.”

Tyrion sighed out loud and made his annoyance quite obvious. “I wanted you to spy on the bastard, not the maester.”

“No I watched him as well, nearly the entire day. He unfortunately didn't do much. First he took his breakfast in his room, then the maester went Gods know where. While the bastard just stayed in his room for a few hours. So I passed a silver stag onto a coal boy so he could go tell me what he was doing in there.”

Tyrion then leaned in intently and placed his wine down, eager to learn what perversion Maric was hiding. “And what was it?”

“The bloody cunt was just playing his music on the balcony was all. I was hiding for nearly three hours outside his door and he was just singing, can you believe that? So after that, I waited around a little longer and that knight Garlan Tyrell showed up and then both of them went to the training grounds together.” Bronn informed him.

“And? Did anything of note happen or was this whole thing just a waste of time?” Said Tyrion with obvious frustration growing in his voice.

“It’s as you feared. That knight Garlan was the only one who trained and he was rather impressive, training against three men at once and all. But Maric just sat and watched. He looked a bit bored to me, and after that he returned to his room for the rest of the night. Probably playing on his damned lute.”

As Tyrion stood from the table, he paced over to the looking glass on the far wall and peered at his marred face and missing nose in the reflection. Perhaps I’ll need to ask Varys about him … it seems he’s a difficult one to figure out. “So all we know now, is that he is friends with Garlan Tyrell, he suspiciously has been taught by an archmaester, and he is a musician.” Reflecting back on his former meeting with the bastard, Tyrion compares Maric with his half-brother Balon Swann. “And his older brother is a knight of the Kingsguard.”

“So we have nothing.” Stated Bronn as he emptied his cup. Bronn then stood up and remarked. “Well, I should get going now. Give you time to prepare for your nephew’s wedding and all.”

“Ahh yes. Our wise and glorious King Joffrey, who in a show of true chivalry and grace, destroyed my wedding gift to him and nearly killed a member of his Kingsguard trying to show us all that he was man enough to wield his new sword.” Remarked Tyrion who didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

Bidding his employer farewell, Bronn then left Tyrion to himself and his thoughts, as the bells begin to chime from the Great Sept of Baelor. Tyrion confessed to himself that he is running out of time before the wedding. After locating his wedding attire, Tyrion quickly changed into his finest attire and takes one more sip of wine for courage before he set off to find Sansa.


	3. Bastards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.' Rhaegar believed that his son would be the savior, but Rhaegar was slain on the Trident and his son was murdered by Gregor Clegane. But the real Aegon was not killed that day, and his story has not found it's conclusion.
> 
> Alternate tale of Aegon VI and his role in the future of Westeros.

Sansa:

 

After the large and elaborate wedding between Joffrey and Margaery at the Great Sept of Baelor, all the Lords and Ladies were ushered back to the Red Keep to change and prepare for the wedding feast. Sansa herself sat at a vanity table while two of her handmaidens worked on her hair. She stared deeply at her own reflection for a time and felt pity for her friend Margaery as she was now married to the Tyrant King. As the hairbrush was roughly pulled through her hair Sansa let out a slight whimper which caused both handmaidens to be stop and issue a quick apology. After letting both women know it was fine she continued to stare at her own reflection and for a moment she almost thought she saw her mother looking back at her. That however was impossible she told herself as it was just her, and no one else.  _It's me ... only me. Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Arya are gone._

After the prolonged period of being dolled up in her finest and having her hair styled by the two handmaidens Sansa was finally readied for the feast. Before long she heard the guards outside her door inform her of her husband's arrival.

Opening the door she greeted her husband, but not before taking notice of his dark red ensemble. Remembering her manners Sansa quickly complimented him. “You look very handsome today, Tyrion.”

Tyrion then smiled up at Sansa and let his amusement be known with a quick chuckle. “Oh we both know that’s not true, but I thank you anyway.” As Tyrion looked her over Sansa didn't fail to notice a certain look of lust in his eyes and after he added. “But you on the other hand are beautiful, my Lady. I feel sympathy for all the other women at the wedding as they surely will pale before you.” Ushering her forward with his small hand he remarked. “But we should be going, lest we miss any of the entertainment.”

Following Tyrion through the halls she resigned herself to the fact that Joffrey would be even worse today than he usually was, which to Sansa at times that seemed almost impossible. She did however remember the saying go, 'every man is king on their wedding day' but unfortunately Joffrey was already King every other day.

As they both arrived in the throne room they were greeted to the sight of a juggler who tossed melons the size of his own head into the air and caught them behind his back. Tugging at Sansa’s sleeve, Tyrion moved her along toward their seat at the foremost table.

Looking toward the center of the table, Sansa saw Margaery in her radiant dress and thought her to be the most beautiful woman there by far. Shifting her eyes Sansa then rested her eyes on Joffrey and immediately felt a sickening knot in the pit of her tummy.

The feast went on and the entertainment and courses came and went quickly and Sansa politely and courteously accepted the condolences of many other guests for her mother and brother and successfully bit her tongue so as to not offend them. Having learned long ago that it was always better to remain silent lest she offend. While she conversed with a distant cousin of Margaery’s her attention was drawn to a strikingly distinct and dark haired man who stopped in front of Tyrion and conversed with the Imp.

As she struggled to hear Tyrion's conversation over the Tyrell girl she did manage to make out him saying something about a sellsword. But before she could hear anymore she heard the familiar voice of Lady Olenna Tyrell utter. “If you could stop talking now dear perhaps Sansa will be able to enjoy the wedding without you and your gossiping ruining her appetite.”

The girl quickly shied away from Lady Olenna and offered a quick apology to Sansa before departing back to her table which was far and away in the back of the room. Politely turning to the Queen of Thorns, Sansa replied. “It is very nice to see you, Lady Olenna.”

Olenna let out a curt chuckle. “So I understand. I must be the Mother reborn, as everyone here has told me the exact same thing over and over.” Averting her gaze Sansa felt at a loss of what to say. Thankfully Olenna chuckled before relenting. “I was simply jesting my dear.” Olenna then readjusted Sansa’s hairnet gently and admired it deeply. After letting it go she smiled at Sansa and continued. “But you are marvelous this evening, simply stunning my dear. I do say that besides my granddaughter you are the most beautiful lady here.”

“Thank you.”

Olenna then pinched Sansa's cheek gently and lowered her voice. “But do try to enjoy yourself my dear. Weddings are supposed to be a joyous event, so dance and have fun ... you deserve it.” Excusing herself, Olenna returned to her seat on the other side of the large table.

Before Sansa could resume listening in on her husband’s conversation she saw the dark haired man had stopped before her. As she looked to him he bowed his head. “Do I know you sir?” Sansa asked innocently as the man looked back up and focused his piercing eyes on her.

Before he could answer Tyrion interjected with a distant look in his eyes. “Sansa, this is Lord Maric Storm. He was the one I told you about a few days ago.”

“Oh yes. It is nice to finally meet you, my Lord.” Extending her hand out to the him he placed a gentle kiss on it.

“It is nice to finally meet you as well, Lady Lannister. I've heard tales of your beauty, but they did not do you justice my Lady ... I can assure you.” He then shot a quick look to Tyrion and his smile melted into a look of innocence as he asked. “If it would not trouble you my Lord, may I share a dance with your lady wife?” Before Tyrion could answer Maric had turned to Sansa with a dazzling smile and added. “If that is agreeable with you of course.”

Leaning back in his chair Tyrion drank deeply from his cup before and shrugged. “No, no, go enjoy yourself Sansa.” Tyrion then averted his gaze and watched the sword swallowers perform their craft.

Taking his lead to the floor the man pulled her close and smiled down at her while Sansa herself kept her head straight ahead and tried to focus on Lord Lorent Caswell rather than her dance partners comely face. She moved slowly with the bastard of Stonehelm and was surprised to find him a competent dancer as she remembered her brother Jon being an awful dancer without any grace.

“You are a very good dancer.” Sansa said quietly under her breath as she spotted Lord Caswell’s hand slide up the bum of Lady Megga Tyrell.

“Really, you think so? I was always unsure of myself in that aspect. I had nearly four septas when I was a boy that tried to teach me the steps.” He then let out a silvery laugh which made Sansa all the more nervous. “And all quit within the fortnight. I believe I overheard one of them complain that teaching the steps to a mule would have been less a challenge.”

As Sansa and Maric turned to the next step she saw Margaery flash her a gentle smile which gave her a bit more confidence. _Atleast talk back to him, I shouldn't be rude_. “My brother ... Jon, had a similar problem, but they did not force him to learn. They didn't think he would need to know them.” Sansa muttered before she could stop herself.

“Why not?” Asked Maric.

Drawing further into herself in embarrassment she replied in a quavering voice. “I’m sorry, I forget myself.”

Touching Sansa’s chin gently with his finger he tilted her head up and forced her to look him in the eyes and she felt her cheeks burn as she studied his hauntingly dark eyes. “Your brother's name is Jon Snow correct?” Simply nodding her head as no words came to her tongue Maric continued. “I suppose some might find it odd how I’ve been coddled by my family. But I never was a bastard to them you see, I was always just family.” Looking down at Sansa wistfully she felt as if he was not truly looking at her but through her which gave her precious time to compose her thoughts. “Was he treated like that?” He gently murmured.

Thoughts drifting to her last remaining family member Sansa felt shame and regret over her attitude to him. _I never really did know him, mother always made sure I knew he was only my half-brother_. Averting her eyes from his she focused on his lips instead. “I must admit I truly didn't speak to him as often as I should have. But he always was with my brother Robb …” As his name left Sansa’s lips a sadness washed over her. “He-he left for the Wall just before I departed Winterfell with my father and sister.”

“Yes … your sister-” Leaning in close to Sansa she felt her hands beginning to shake as he whispered to her. “She’s not in King’s Landing is she.” Unable to lie to him Sansa wordlessly shook her head and as she did the corners of Maric's mouth curved up in a smile. “I thought as much. They've been telling the entire country for months now that they had both Stark girls, but the only stories coming from the capital are of you and none are of your sister.”

“Please don't tell anyone I told you.” Sansa begged him in a trembling voice. “I don't know what they would do to me if-”

“Have no fear, my Lady. This will stay strictly between us I can promise you.” Suddenly the dance then came to an end which forced Maric and her to separate. After giving her hand another polite kiss he bade her farewell. “Keep safe, Lady Lannister, I fear these hard times are not yet over.” Leaving Sansa on the dance floor she watched him disappear into the thick crowd of nobles and ladies dancing and twirling together in unison. As old Hamish the Harper stumbled to remember the words of 'A Rose of Gold' she realized she was staring.

Returning to her place at the table she noticed Tyrion is was still drinking heavily as always. As she sat down a servant served her a plate of stuffed duck. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Asked Tyrion with a noticeable slur. Nodding her head Sansa took a small bite of the poultry. “Ahh, good ... good. One of us should at least be enjoying ourselves.”


	4. A Friend in Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.' Rhaegar believed that his son would be the savior, but Rhaegar was slain on the Trident and his son was murdered by Gregor Clegane. But the real Aegon was not killed that day, and his story has not found it's conclusion.
> 
> Alternate tale of Aegon VI and his role in the future of Westeros.

Tyrion:

Waking to a fright, Tyrion reached out to the darkness, scratching and clawing at the unseen horror. Trying to regain his bearings, Tyrion attempted to call out, but felt his throat close up in thirst. Tyrion licked at his lips trying to return them some moisture. Struggling to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit room he reached out for his skin of water, but then remembered he finished it last night. Thinking back on yesterday and of Varys testimony against him. Tyrion feels great anger for the man and his false promise of remembering what Tyrion did for the city. _That trial was nothing but a farce. With nothing but Cersei and my father’s lickspittles rushing to impress them by making up lies about me._

Tyrion’s musings are then interrupted as his cell door swings open. Recognizing his usual guard, he murmured. “Ahh it’s so good you're here. I was wondering where my breakfast was.”

Ignoring Tyrion's request, the stout man spat out. “You have a visitor, Imp.” As the man moved from the doorway, Maric Storm casually strut into the cell with an arrogant look of amusement on his face.

Maric opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Turning to the jailer he ordered. "You can leave us." Taking his leave of the two, the guard stepped back and locked the door behind himself. Leaving Maric and Tyrion alone. Without a word he paced over to the iron barred window, to out at the sun rising over Blackwater Bay. “I truthfully expected this cell to be worse.” Turning to Tyrion with a smirk, he added. “You even have a view of the waterfront. Bastards like me don't even get that.”

“Oh, if that’s the case I'd be happy to trade rooms with you.” Responded Tyrion, while he flashed a drowsy smile. “But I'm guessing you didn't come here to inspect my chambers. So what do you want?”

Letting out a light chuckle, the bastard shook his head. “I thought I'd learn for myself if you actually did it.”

“You were at the trial yesterday. Were all those supposed witnesses not enough to convince you? Because they seemed to convince everyone else of my guilt.” Tyrion spat out in hurt and disgust.

After retrieving a skin from under his cloak, Tyrion saw Maric's eyes roll in amusement. “I did wonder to myself if any of them actually believe what they say they saw, or if they are knowingly lying to please your sister.” Squatting low to the floor he picked up Tyrion’s own waterskin and filled it with the contents of his own, while he went on. “Your sister herself approached me days after King Joffrey’s death and tried to bribe me to say I saw you retrieve something right before Joffrey was poisoned.”

After Maric finished filling his skin, Tyrion took it from him and held it to his nose while the smell of strawberries flooded his nostrils. “What is this wine?” Asked Tyrion, as he cautiously sipped the dark substance.

Taking obvious enjoyment from Tyrion’s suspicion, he explained. “It might not be as good of a quality as you're used to, but it was the best I could manage this early in the morn. But I must admit, I was truly surprised by the lengths your sister was willing to go to get me lie for her. She offered me a knighthood and when I refused that she even offered me a Lannister bride.”

As Tyrion savored the sweetness of his wine, he was forced to reluctantly swallow the mouthful and respond. “As you now well know, my Sister is willing to go to any lengths to damn me. Who did she offer to you anyway? Little Joy Hill? She seems to be the poor girl my family always likes to offer.”

“She offered me some Rosamund girl from Lannisport, she even swore to me that she took after Princess Myrcella. I turned her down all the same though.” Clearly finding amusement in the situation, his lips curved into a dazzling smile, which Tyrion felt had melted the hearts of many maidens. “She did not take my refusal well as I'm sure you can guess. She told me she would have me removed from the small council and that I was lucky I still kept my head after my family betrayed the crown.”

Reluctantly Tyrion put the wine down so as to make it last. “My sister has always been quick to anger.” Admitted Tyrion, gaining a good amount of amusement at his sister's displeasure.

“I must admit it was lucky she didn't offer what I was sent here to procure.” Retrieving another skin from his cloak, Maric removed the cork with his teeth. “Not that she could promise it to me anyway. I suppose only your father or King Tommen could do that now.” Making a show of pausing to look at Tyrion, he finished. “Would you like to know why I'm here?”

“Do I want to know?” Asked Tyrion, as he eyed the skin in Maric’s hand.

As he followed Tyrion’s line of sight, he chuckled. “I'm afraid it’s only water my Lord.” Holding it out to Tyrion, he then pulled it back as Tyrion turned it down upon learning of it’s content. “As you might know the Swanns were the most powerful house in the Stormlands after the Baratheons. But with this rapid decline of the Baratheon’s in every aspect. My family is left in a very opportune position ... namely the Lord Paramountcy of the Stormlands.”

Letting out a short snicker, Tyrion explained to the naive boy. “And as you and your father should well know, Tommen will be the only claimant to Storm’s End after Stannis is dealt with.”

“But your father would not be so unwise as to attempt to directly manage both the Crownlands and the Stormlands by himself. Even Robert Baratheon knew that someone needed to govern those lands for him, so he chose his younger brother Renly. And as you know, besides Stannis there are no remaining male Baratheons besides the King.” Finished Maric, as silence fell over both men.

After taking a small sip of his water, Maric sighed loudly while studying the walls of Tyrion's cell. Feeling he has nothing to lose, Tyrion admitted.  “You are a very strange man. Did you know that?”

Instead of looking hurt, Maric chuckled at Tyrion's accusation. Tyrion personally finds he looks more flattered than insulted as the young man replied. “Am I? How so?”

“Not many people would turn down such a generous offer like the one that my sister offered you. Then throwing caution to the wind you showed up to the accused Kingslayer’s cell to share a chat. Add to that is your … supposed tutor, archmaester Marwyn.”

Instead of answering to Tyrion’s accusation, the young man peered down at the straw covered floor of the cell. As the period of silence continued to grow longer and longer Tyrion wondered if he had pushed him too far. But soon after, he dissuaded Tyrion’s thoughts with a simple smile and shrug. “When you put it that way, I suppose I am a bit odd. Maybe that's just the nature of being a bastard.”

Feeling a bit more comfortable around him, Tyrion went on. “You gave me quite a shock at the wedding you know.” Fast as lightning, Maric’s dark eyes narrow as the words left Tyrion’s mouth. “But that is what I get I suppose for sending a sellsword to do a spy’s job.”

Forcing Tyrion to look him in his eyes, Maric stated plainly and without humour. “I don't like to be spied upon Lord Tyrion, and if I didn't request Marwyn to let me handle it. Then I’m afraid Basilisk venom would have found it’s way into that man’s ale.”

Still feeling bitter over Bronn’s refusal to fight on his behalf, Tyrion shrugged his shoulders. “It wouldn't have mattered to me either way, you can find a sellsword anywhere.” Still looking into those dark eyes, Tyrion mused. “You certainly don't look like any of the other Swanns.” As Tyrion studied Maric, he compared him to his older brother Balon. Because where Balon was thick and wide with muscle, Maric was lithe and slim. Balon’s eyes were a shade of light brown, Maric’s appeared to be black in the dim light peeking through the window.

As if knowing what Tyrion was doing, he quickly averted his gaze from Tyrion's. His hands raised up to his face as he combed back his dark hair. “My mother was a Lyseni whore you know. And my father always sought to remind me that she was the most beautiful whore in the city.” Smirking sourly, he spat out those words almost as if they had harmed him to utter. He then turned and strut to the window in a haste.

Before Tyrion could respond, he was interrupted by the loud noise of his cell door opening, accompanied by the guard as he informed Maric. “I’m sorry for interrupting m’lord, but your presence has been requested.”

“Oh really? Well I suppose I better be off then.” Japed Tyrion.

Not appreciating Tyrion's attempt at humor, the large man spit in Tyrion’s direction. Maric then turned to face Tyrion with a half smile. “Good luck today, Tyrion. I'm sure you'll need it.” Pausing while in the doorway, he called out to Tyrion and mused. “Mayhaps I'll write a song about you. I think I'll call it the Half Man's Shadow.” Without another word he turned and left the cell.

As the guard closed the cell door, Tyrion let out a loud sigh and pondered his coming fate. Turning to look towards the rising sun through the window, Tyrion spots a lump of brown leather on the floor beside the wall. Walking over to it, he lift it and remembered it to be Maric’s waterskin. _Strange man indeed_. Pondered Tyrion as he sipped at the surprisingly cold water.  _One thing for sure is that his mother was not Lyseni, they drink more moon tea then I do wine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter I know, but I'll be posting the next one later today. Thx for reading


	5. The Smallest Notion

Cersei:

 

Cersei impatiently tapped her fingers on the decadent table of the small council chamber while Grand Maester Pycelle continued to ramble on about some matter she cared little about. Looking at her stern faced father she watched as he waved Pycelle away. As her father turned his stern gaze towards her it had forced her to listen to his every word. "I asked you to figure out how and where Tyrion got the poison from. Have you made any progress on this?”

 _I would have if not for my incompetent servants._  Thought Cersei as her mouth twisted in severe disgust. Forced to swallow down her pride, Cersei informed her father. “So far I haven’t, but-”

Cutting Cersei off in mid-sentence, Tywin iterated. “When you begged me to allow you back onto the small council it was on the condition that you would find out where the poison came from ... do you remember that?”

Feeling like a small girl again as her father called her out in front of everyone she quickly responded back. “Yes I do, but I just-”

“Get it done.” Ordered Tywin in his usual authoritative tone. Turning to the rest of the small council he asked them. “Do any of you others have information regarding the poison that killed my grandson and your king?”

The stout and clean shaven Mathis Rowan spoke up for everyone to hear. “If the poison that was used was truly the strangler-”.

Suddenly breaking his usual silence during the small council meetings, Oberyn Martell stated. “It is. I have no doubt in my mind that it was the strangler used. I’ve only seen it once before in my life and it is not something one forgets.”

Mathis simply nodded at the Prince's explanation and continued.  “It is an exceedingly rare poison for any man to procure. And if Tyrion is truly the one who poisoned King Joffrey, then we should be looking at any close companions of his that would have had the means to obtain it.”

Remembering her earlier conversation in the week with Tyrion’s sellsword, Cersei informed the council. “Besides for Tyrion’s little whore, the only other person he could turn to was the sellsword I told you about, father.”

“And you assured us that he knew nothing about Tyrion’s plot to kill Joffrey. So now we must figure out who he congregated with before the wedding.” Turning to Varys, he asked the Eunuch. “You told me that you would look into any leads we may have missed … do you have any new information for us?”

“I have heard many whispers from my little birds, but I must admit that I can not confirm any of it at the moment.” Looking over at the plump and bald Eunuch, Cersei herself had began questioning his usefulness of late. _Not even him and all of his little birds could save my son, the Master of whisperers job is to stop things like this from happening._

All eyes then turn to Maric as he cleared his throat while peering down at a rough sheet of parchment. “Forgive me Lord Tywin, but I may have some leads as it pertains to the poison.”

“Go ahead then.” Commanded Tywin.

Looking over at the newly promoted Master of coin, Cersei briefly admired his handsome and thin face and found it a pity he would not take her bribe. Finding him to be quite appealing she had even toyed with the idea of taking him into her bed if he proved himself.

“As some of you here might know, the strangler is a poison made by the alchemists of Lys and only they and the Citadel of course know how to produce it. I may be wrong and I'm sure the Grand Maester could enlighten me, but I don't believe the Citadel produces poison for sale.”    

Loudly clearing his throat along with a rough cough right after the old and hobbled Grand Maester confirmed. “The Citadel has known the secrets of it’s production for many years it's true, but I can assure all of you that they do not actively make it, and I can swear to you that they would never sell it under any circumstances.”

Before the Grand Maester could begin rambling again, Maric continued. ”And according to the Harbormaster's report of this last month, only one ship has come from Lys of late.”

Suddenly coming to a realization, Mace Tyrell quickly spoke up. “Should I not be the one receiving those reports? After all I am the Master of ships.”

Shooting Mace Tyrell a look of faux innocence, the bastard of Swann replied. “I did not mean to overstep my boundaries Lord Tyrell, but I feared it may have slipped your notice with the trial still going on. I would be more than pleased to continue monitoring this for you, until you are ready to handle it yourself of course.”

Mace Tyrell then paused to think of his options and after a short wait he quickly nodded back with the bastard of Stonehelm's idea. “That would be more than kind. Thank you, always such a good and diligent boy you were.”

After rolling her eyes at Mace Tyrell’s blatant ignorance to the bastard patronizing him, she then remembered that this was the same man who had been gleefully parading his sole accomplishment of sieging a castle of two hundred men. While he himself had the entire strength of the Reach at his back and of course yet he still failed.

“And what have you learned from this one ship from Lys?” Asked her father as he focused his truly intimidating gaze on the bastard of Swann.

“Ahh, yes.” Lifting another slip of parchment from the table and to his eyes, he took a brief moment of thought before continuing. “I had most of the crew imprisoned and questioned. All claimed they had no knowledge of any poison and that they had never met nor seen anyone by Lord Tyrion’s description.”

“So you have nothing then.” Cersei stated in a haughty tone trying to make her disdain for him quite apparent.

Maric in response quickly shook his head. “Actually my Lady, I have found a lead. The captain of the ship told me of a dark skinned man from the Summer Isles who had joined the crew in Lys. He then told that after they had arrived in King's Landing that the man disappeared without his pay and they have not seen him since. So it could be something to go on.”

“Then do it. Lord Varys here will assist you in that pursuit.” Ordered Tywin who then turned expectantly to the Eunuch.

Smiling in his usual effeminate manner, the Spider agreed. “Of course, Lord Tywin. I will do everything in my power to help.”

“Lord Tyrell, have you begun removing the shipwrecks from Blackwater Bay?”

Quickly scrambling to find an answer, Mace Tyrell sputtered out. “Um ye-yes my Lord, I’ve be-been trying.”

Clearly not impressed by the Fat Flower’s answer, her father demanded. “Get it down. We will need as much room in the bay as we can get. Not only will we need room for the coming Redwyne fleet, but we must start the process of rebuilding the crown’s own fleet.” He turned back to Maric next. “I asked you to look into procuring the funds for this venture, have you been successful?”

“There have been some setbacks on that front I’m afraid.” Admitted Maric who bowed his head for good effect, though in Cersei's opinion he did not look at all saddened by his failure.

“What type of setbacks, my Lord?” Asked the Spider.

“As many of you may already know. The Crown’s finances are not in a great situation, I don't know how we will fund the building of these ships.” After lifting a heavy tome off of his lap, Maric began to scan through it. “At the moment the Crown can support the construction of ten ships with my family's contribution, if we need more then we would need to take money from other places.”

“Perhaps your family should have given more.” Spat Cersei. “You are the Master of coin and as you many now know, that means the Crown decides how to spend the money and you get us that money.”

“Of course ... thank you for your wise advice, my Lady, I will surely not forget it.” As Maric finished, Cersei noticed a slight smirk hanging on his lips. Sliding the heavy tome across the table towards Tywin, Maric explained to him. “But I must inform you all of the ever looming debt owed to the Iron Bank. They will demand their due and as Littlefinger’s meticulous records have told me, there has not been a payment made to the Iron Bank in nearly five years. Which I think all of us here can agree is quite troubling.”

As Tywin pondered his decision he pulled thoughtfully at his golden whiskers. Glancing down at the financial records he finally answered. “We will need to deal with the Iron Bank as soon as possible, lest they turn to our enemies.” Tywin then directed his steely gaze back towards Maric. “You will set sail for Braavos yourself as soon as possible. Then you will meet with the Iron Bank and coerce them into extending the loan.”

Clenching her fist hard in anger, Cersei wondered how her father could trust such a task of importance to a mere bastard. Thinking better than of speaking out in front of the small council, she bite her tongue and saved her complaints for later when they were alone. Looking at Maric she saw him hesitate for a mere moment before he agreed. “If that is what you wish of me, Lord Tywin.”

“It is.” Confirmed her father as he passed the heavy tome back to Maric who in turn shut it and removed the book from the table. “Now, as you all well know, the last stage of the trial will be today. So I must prepare.”

Without another word from anyone each of the men left the room. Cersei herself waited for the room to empty before she voiced her complaint to her father. “I don't trust him.”

Taking a small sip of wine, Tywin waved away his daughter’s concern. “Just because he wouldn't bend to your demands doesn't make him an enemy. Maybe yours, but not mine.”

“I offered him everything he could possibly hope for and he refused.” Said Cersei who was still feeling the sting of the bastard's refusal.

“Exactly. He refused everything you offered, because he knows that only I can give him what he wants.” Replied Tywin in a matter-of-factly way that picked at Cersei's patience.

 “So what is it he wants from us then?”

“That’s no concern of yours. So far he has proven himself capable in his role and not only that, but he has an ambitious drive about him. While I don't plan to ever bend to his desires, it would be prudent to use him for as long as possible.” Her father said, who in Cersei’s opinion looked quite proud of himself as he explained his plan.

“Don't you worry about where his true loyalties lay? He squired for Margaery Tyrell’s older brother and even lived with them at Highgarden. What you should-”

Tywin shifted his calculating green eyes to his daughter and silenced her with his gaze. “I hope you do not mean to tell what I should or shouldn't do. At this moment I need the Swann’s gold and soldiers. And until the time that is no longer the case, I will get a good use out him.” Giving Cersei another stern look of disapproval he asked her. “So what would you do if you were in my place? Kill him because he displeased you? And if you did then what? His older brother is a knight of the Kingsguard. Would it truly be wise to test his vows with Tommen at stake?”

Slightly panicking at her father’s questioning she quickly responded back. “Jaime has assured me that Ser Balon will not flinch in his duty.”

Tensing up at his son’s name, Tywin took a sip of wine before he spoke. “Speaking of my son and your brother, he was absent today … again.”

As her thoughts drifted to Jaime she thought back on his return. Her thoughts of him returned to the painful fact that he never truly did home, he was changed. Missing a hand and his golden hair which she so loved and now he was no longer clean shaven as he once was. In truth they did not even still look like the twins they were. “Jaime has changed.” Exclaimed Cersei quietly in her daze.

“Him losing his hand has broken him. I was hoping that he would have matured and realized the folly in remaining in the Kingsguard. I need my heir and I need him now ... more than I ever have before.” Muttered Tywin as his own thoughts drifted to Jaime. "We need to make him see sense."


	6. A Game of Strategy

Tyrion:

 

As Tyrion woke, he struggled to adjust his vision to the dark room, he stopped dead as he remembered where he was. Suddenly feeling nauseous, he scrambled to his feet and lost his last meal in the corner of his cabin. Still feeling the floor move, he looked around the cabin of the ship and he remembered having boarded it at Varys’ directive last night. _Right after I killed him … right after I killed my father and Sha-_ Not letting himself even think her name, Tyrion looked for the nearest window. Upon finding it. he struggled to look through the shuttered window and saw several sailors working on the ship.

Having heard the door open, Tyrion turned in shock. “Where am I?” He simply asked the balding man, while his eyes strained over in the natural light that flooding in.

“We are currently sailing past Rosby, my Lord Lannister.” Stated the ox of a man, as he gently placed down a breakfast of pork sausage and what looked to be porridge on the table beside Tyrion’s featherbed.

Carefully and cautiously Tyrion approached the food, while he struggled to place a name to the man’s face through the dim light leaking through the sole window. Then he carefully examined the bowl of boiled oats while a very appealing smell invaded his nostrils. Turning from the food, Tyrion reached out for a wineskin on his bed and pulled the stopper, only to remember having finished it last night. “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience, could you fetch me some wine.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that my Lord.”

“Why not? Don’t you know that I'm in mourning.” Said Tyrion with a tinge of humor before he fell onto his bed in exhaust.

Reaching down to the table and cutting through the sausage, the man explained to Tyrion. “I would be willing to fill that skin if you finish your breakfast though.”

Tyrion then weighed his desire to drown himself in wine versus his queasy stomach. It only took him a few moments to let his desire for wine to win. Tyrion forced himself over to the porridge and brings a spoonful to his mouth and tastes the sweetness. “It’s not bad.” Admitted Tyrion.

“That is fortunate. I did not know how you would enjoy it, so I simply made it as I would make my ward’s.” The man then took a seat at the edge of Tyrion’s bed and retrieved a small vial from a pouch on his belt. “You should take this Lord Tyrion ... if your nausea is too severe that is.”

Tyrion gave one sidewards glance at the blue vial before turning his attention back towards the porridge. “The sooner I finish eating, the sooner I get that wine you promised me.”

Stowing the vial back in his pouch, the man remarked. “You don’t remember me do you.” Not caring to try to answer, Tyrion simply speared a piece of pork sausage with his fork and then ate it. “You seemed rather interested in my book a week ago.”

“Archmaester Marwyn?” Muttered Tyrion in confusion, as he struggled to recall his last interaction with the man. “I wouldn't have guessed you worked for Varys.”

Letting out a hearty laugh, Marwyn vehemently shook his head and clutched at his round belly. “I don't work for the Spider, Lord Tyrion. Our goals simply coincided as it pertains to your fate.”

“I didn't know I was considered such a valued person. But you can forgive me for feeling that way, as not one person in King's Landing spoke up in my defense when they accused me of killing Joffrey.” Spat Tyrion in anger. _Not one of those scheming rats came to my defense._

“You misunderstand me my Lord. While I think you are a competent man, if it was left to me I wouldn't have taken the risk of getting you out of King's Landing.” Exclaimed Marwyn unabashedly.

Tyrion then hears a loud crash outside the cabin, accompanied by multiple curses from whom he would guess are from the crewmen. “So tell me, is that bastard really in charge ... or is someone else pulling your strings?”

Instead of giving Tyrion an answer, Marwyn’s eyes darted to the still unfinished breakfast. Which forced Tyrion to eat another bite of sausage. “No one is pulling my strings Lord Tyrion, just as no one pulls yours. I believe both of us are free thinkers. And I also believe that both of us have the skills that could save this country from an almost certain destruction.”

“And what skill is that?” Asked Tyrion with a sarcastic smile as, he finished the pork sausage.

“Common sense.” Deadpanned Marwyn as the old ox of a man stood. Reaching into his belt he retrieved a wineskin and tossed it to Tyrion. “I think you’ll find I know my wine much better than Maric.” Turning to leave the room he took one sideways glance toward Tyrion’s vomit, before he added. “Try not to get too drunk, as Maric wishes to talk with you later.” Marwyn then left the room and shut the door tight.

After pulling the stopper on the wineskin, Tyrion swallowed down a mouthful of the sweet dornish summerwine. Through the door Tyrion called out. “It will take much more than a single skin for that.”

Finishing the rest of his breakfast, Tyrion laid back on the feather bed. _Varys didn't tell me where I was going before he loaded me on the ship._ Feeling the soft bed below him, he the questioned why he was given a room this lush on the ship. Drifting his thoughts to Shae, her dead body splayed out on the feather bed flashed through his mind. As he swallowed down another swig of wine, he shut his heavy eyes to stop the tears, content on sleeping to escape his pain.

After several very unrestful hours of attempting to drink himself to sleep, Tyrion heard a quick succession of knocks on his door, accompanied by a high pitched voice. “M’lord.” Screeched the voice over and over, along with more knocks only harder and louder. “M’lord. It’s time to wake.”

“What is it?!” Shouted Tyrion in annoyance as the knocking continued on his door.

'Sorry M’lord, but the chain wearing man ordered me.” Replied a young voice through the door.

Gripping the bed for balance Tyrion pulled himself to his feet and slurped down the last remaining drops from the skin of wine. Still struggling to gain his balance in the rocking ship he opened his door and watched the face of a windburned boy of whom looked to be eight as he slowly studied Tyrion’s scarred face. “Do you mind telling me what else this … chain wearing man told you?” As Tyrion finished speaking he could almost see the horror building in the boy’s eyes.

“He-he told … I mean he said to br-bring you to the M’lord’s chamber.” Stuttered out the boy as his eyes fearfully shifted to where Tyrion’s nose once existed.

“Well lead the way then.” Spat out Tyrion as the boy quickly jogged down a darkened path. Looking out of the doorway Tyrion spotted the railing of the ship and held onto it for balance. Walking close to the edge and looking overboard he saw distant lights through the dense fog over the dark but calm waters of the Blackwater. _We must be near Duskendale by now._ Pondered Tyrion.

“Please this way M’lord.” Spouted the boy who had reached the end of the walkway.

Turning and following the shaggy and mousy haired boy Tyrion nearly fell over several times but managed to make it to the deck of the large carrack. As the boy began climbing a narrow staircase he himself came to a stop and looked at several of the sailors who were working around the ship diligently. Tyrion mused to himself how the sailors have quieted down from earlier and thought Marwyn somehow was involved. They must have felt Tyrion’s stares as they suddenly turned to him with looks of disapproval. As many whispers and snickers break out amongst them Tyrion thought they almost looked of fishwifes with their whisperings and gossips.

Turning after the boy the Half-man climbed the slick stairs behind him. He still struggled greatly to keep his balance and needed to reach out for the railing to maintain his balance lest he tumble down them. He japed to the boy as he climbed. “It seems I don’t have my sea legs yet as you do.”

“And he smiled and he laughed and he sung.” Echoed a melodious and gentle voice from the top of the stairs.

Without turning to face Tyrion the boy shrugged and whispered back. “I don't know what you mean, M’lord.”

The voice echoed out again with noticeable sadness. “Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done. The Dornishman’s taken my life.”

As they reached the top of the stairs Tyrion asked. “Does he sing often?”

The boy nodded his head quickly and excitedly replied. “He does, and he sings much better then my mum at that, M’lord.” Reaching out to knock on the door he paused and waited.

“But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife.”

The boy then gingerly knocked now that the song had ended. “M’lord, I brought your guest.”

“Ahh, bring him him.” The singer replied through the rough hewn door.

After carefully opening the door the child stepped out of Tyrion’s way and allowed him access. The Imp examined the room carefully and first spotted the young Maric Storm seated precariously on an open window and then saw an opulently designed lute on his lap. Shifting his vision to the left side of the room he saw a simple table made of elm wood and on it sat a cyvasse board. As he took his first step he saw on the foot of a similar looking featherbed to his own and a red cask with the Redwyne seal burned on its side.

“You've seen better days.” Remarked Maric as he hopped off the window. “But I suppose you look better this way than if your head was on the city walls.” Walking up to the table he gestured for Tyrion to sit down and turned to the cabin boy. “Derran, fetch a basin of water.”

The boy then skipped away from the room leaving Tyrion and Maric alone. “I would much prefer that Arbor Gold than water.” Remarked Tyrion while he eyed the cask over Maric's shoulder.

“I wasn't offering you water. I had a cask of Dornish strongwine brought up for you though.” Explained Maric as he directed Tyrion to a opened cask behind the door. “Please help yourself.” Implored Maric as he took the seat across the table from him.

Tyrion paced over to the cask and retrieved an empty goblet of bronze from atop it. “Your Maester said you wanted to have a word with me.” Mentioned Tyrion as he filled his cup with the blood red wine.

“I do.”

Tyrion let out a small chuckle. “So should I start asking the questions or would you like to begin? The sooner you allow me to drown myself in a barrel of wine-” The Imp’s eyes darted to the barrel of Arbor Gold. “And I would very much enjoy it to be that one there … the better.” Returning to his chair he looked over the board of cyvasse. “Or did you just wish to play a game to pass the time?”

Smirking in amusement at him, the bastard replied. “I thought we could do both. It certainly passes the time well, and while you may not be aware of this, sailor’s do make for boring and predictable opponents.”

“I’ve played a great many times even with sailors and some would surprise you.” Moving the rabble piece first Tyrion added. “I do believe we both want something from each other.” He waited for a quick nod from Maric before going on. “So how about we add some extra stipulations to this game? For every piece you lose, you take a drink, and I get to ask a question and you must answer ... without lying”

“And what about for every piece you lose?”

Letting out a burst of laughter he replied. “Such a bold Lord you are. What are you ten and seven? And from what you've told me you have a weakness for wine.” Grabbing an empty flagon from the table Tyrion returned to the opened cask and filled it. “For every piece you remove I'll take a drink and answer one of your own questions.” Placing an empty goblet in front of Maric, he poured it to the brim and noticed a momentary look of hesitance in the young man's eyes and then confirmed. “Deal?”

Reaching down to the board Maric pushed a crossbowmen piece forward. “Not quite, what's the reward for when I win?”

“Well besides the fact that you won't win, if you do manage to somehow steal away my victory you will be most assuredly roaring drunk. So if that's not enough of a reward for your palate why don't you tell me what you want from me so I can match that offer with what I want?”

“If I win you swear yourself to my service.” Deadpanned Maric without a hint a humor or jest in his voice.

Unable to contain himself he laughed in the dumb boy's face. “You certainly didn't mince words with me. I respect that, so tell me what would a bastard like yourself want with me? Seeing as how my reputation accuses me of being a Kingslayer and now a Kinslayer?”

“If you want to know that then you'll have to play me for the answer.” Replied the dark haired boy in a cheeky manner.

Moving another rabble piece forward Tyrion relented. “I accept your conditions, but when I win I get that cask of Arbor Gold behind you all to myself.”

“I was planning to seduce the Iron Bank with it, but if those are your conditions ... I accept.” Reaching to the board he pushed a rabble piece around a mountain and admitted. “Truthfully, I thought you would have demanded the entire cellar of wine.”

“That cask alone is larger than I am.” Tyrion pointed out as he moved a crossbowmen. “I’m sure it will be more than enough ... at least for a few days that is.”

As both men carefully moved their pieces and played around each other they each attempted to find a weakness in the other's strategy. After nearly twenty moves from each man Tyrion finally worked out Maric’s strategy. _H_ _e patiently waits and tries to surround any lone piece. When he attacks he throws all his strength at it before retreating again in a feint._ But using his greater experience Tyrion caught an unguarded spearman piece before it could be pulled back.

“Take a drink.” Ordered Tyrion just as the door swung open and the boy from earlier teetered in with a basin of clear water.

Quickly swallowing down the sweet substance Maric looked at the boy and asked him. “What took you so long?”

The boy timidly placed the basin on the table beside the cask of Arbor Gold and stuttered. “Sorry M’lord, but I didn’t know if you wanted drinking water or salt water. So I brought fresh water.”

“And that is what I wanted. Thank you Derran, now you may leave us.” The black haired bastard waited several more seconds after the boy had left to speak. “So what will you know from me?”

Tapping his fingertip on his chin reflectively he made a show of acting as if he needed to think on it when in truth he had decided before they even started. “Why did you smuggle me away from King's Landing?”

“Because Varys asked me to.” Stated Maric with the threat of a smile looming on his lips. "A favor from the master of whisperers is a valuable thing."

“Is that truly how you mean to play this game, my Lord?”

“I’d like think we are friends now, given our current situation. So please, call me Maric.” The man asked who then received a nod from Tyrion in agreement. “It's because I believe that your death would have been an egregious waste of talent. In my opinion you are worth more than most of the lords in King's Landing put together. So that's why I stole you away from King’s Landing and an unjust end ... Tyrion.” Tapping a catapult piece with his finger he added. “And with that.” He then removed two of Tyrion’s rabble pieces. “I believe that is two drinks you owe.”

Looking down at the board Tyrion realized his mistake far too late. _He lured me in hoping that I would get impatient of his pussyfooting and attack. He had his catapult within range to strike if I did. Rather clever move, but now he’s exhausted it._ “Fair play.” Tyrion admitted in between his two drinks. “So come out with it then, what do you want to know from me?”

“Did you kill Joffrey?”

Snickering at Maric’s question the Imp shook his head. “I told you before and I told all of King’s Landing … I did not kill Joffrey and I don't know who did.”

“So I guess that means you aren't a Kingslayer like your brother.” And as the bastard said it he swore he heard his voice rise at the word brother. “So to my next question, do you know where your wife Sansa is?”

Tyrion shook is head and tried to look for a reason Maric would want to ask that question. Failing to find a look of lust or hate for Sansa on the boy's face, he responded honestly. “I was just as surprised as everyone else was that day when she disappeared. So no ... I do not know where she is but I wish I did.”

Pushing a light horse piece over Maric’s rabble piece he asked. “Do you know who killed Joffrey?”

“Yes.” Answered Maric simply as if answering a question of whether he required sleep or air to breathe.

“Then why did you ask me if I did if you already knew the answer?”

“I wanted to know if you would play honestly, and so far I think you have.” Retrieving a cloth from the basin of water Maric wiped his brow and added. “And before you ask, no I won't tell you who did. Not unless you swear yourself to me now and end this game that is.”

Thinking hard on how much he wished to know who did kill Joffrey, Tyrion made his decision and replied with. “I believe it’s your move.”

After carefully playing around each other for a few more minutes, Tyrion caught Maric off guard with a feint and removed a powerful elephant from play. He then asked. “What has Archmaester Marwyn been teaching you all these years?”

“He’s taught me many languages such as Tyroshi, Myrish, Lyseni, Braavosi, High Valyrian, and I even learned Trade Talk at an early age. Besides that I’ve learned advanced mathematics such as geometry, though I do so detest it. He also insisted that I learn the basic sciences.” The far too well taught bastard then looked to his lute which was resting on his bed. “While he didn't encourage me to pick up music ... he did find me many teachers when he learned of my talent. It may not be something I let on, but I also trained in swordplay since I was eight.”

As Tyrion processed the information he admitted to himself that Maric was taught more skills than most maesters. “He certainly took quite an interest in you. You learned much more than half the lords of Westeros. Some would wonder why a bastard like yourself has been given such advantages in life. I’ve met your eldest brother Donnel and If I'm to be honest he could have used a fraction of what was taught to you. Seeing as how he will one day inherit your … Father’s lands after all.”

“What are you getting at Tyrion?” Asked the bastard as he forced his voice to sound confused all while a smirk threatened to break the cool composure he maintained.

“Oh nothing, just musing to myself is all.”

As both men continued to play they traded questions and answers equally between one another for a time. Tyrion found it a surprise just how few pieces he needed to sacrifice to keep the game seem equal. Maric himself was more than competent opponent and he had to admit a bit of fun in their battle. During an especially long wait for his opponent to make his move the Imp took an opportunity to truly study him. Still finding himself drawn to the contrast between Maric’s eyes and hair he needed to force himself to look passed all that. Looking around Maric’s eyes he noticed the skin discolored and at first thought he'd been crying but then blamed it on the wine.

Suddenly the man looked up from the board and replied. “Your move.” As he pushed his dragon piece far into the field beside a crossbowmen.

Studying the board Tyrion quickly deduced his strategy. _He hopes that by moving his dragon within range of my trebuchet that I'll forget about his crossbowman._  “You are far too willing to part with your dragon.” Lectured Tyrion as he toppled the emerald painted dragon with his hand and removed it from the board. “Now take your drink ... and tell me who you really are.” Deadpanned Tyrion.

Grabbing the goblet with both hands the bastard lifted it to his mouth as if it weighed more than Tyrion himself. Maric then made his inebriation more than apparent as he downed the contents of his cup. Crudely wiping his mouth with his sleeve Tyrion suppressed a snicker as the drunk man unknowingly stained his white tunic. “I already told you who I was.” Slurred Maric as his usually clear voice caught on the last word.

“And I now want the truth.” Demanded Tyrion who looked deep into Maric’s eyes for any coming signs of deception.

In response Maric shifted his vision to the board and tapped on his crossbowmen. “As history has told us of late, even Kingly figures can be killed by something as simple as a bolt of wood.” Tipping Tyrion’s King over he finished with a smirk. “And with that … I win.”

Tyrion simply smiled at Maric’s ignorance as he did not miss the true venom behind his words. “While it is true any man can be killed by a crossbolt-” Standing his king back up to it’s vertical position the Imp traced a finger along the three squares separating his king and Maric’s crossbowman. “You also can't miss. Your piece can only fire over two squares ... and he is three squares away. So no, you do not win.”

Looking at Tyrion in a rage of disbelief he looked as if he meant to flip the board, but instead bit his lip and slowly pushed the crossbowmen one space forward. “Your move.”

Smirking in satisfaction at his victory the Imp reached across the table and pushed his heavy horse over Maric’s white king, which secured his victory. “And with that ... I win.” _If he didn't throw his dragon in the crossfire, he could have blocked my horse and left my king open for his crossbowman. Pity for him he lost his patience ... or he may have won._ Grabbing the flagon from the table Tyrion held it to his lips and downed the remaining contents. “And I do believe you owe me one more answer and that cask.”

Standing up from the chair with speed and power Maric would have nearly toppled the table if not for Tyrion steadying it. After he strutted over to the window and looked out to the sea in silence. Content in waiting for his response all night if that was what it took the Imp took the flagon with him to the opened cask and refilled it. “Do you still want to know who killed your little shit of a nephew?” Seeing the fire in the bastard's eyes he remained silent. Taking that as his answer, Maric explained. “The plot was much larger than anyone guessed it was. I went in with the intention of making up a story of some foreigner from Lys who sold you the poison, but Mace Tyrell proved so incompetent in his position as Master of Ships that I had free reign over the harbor and freely changed the ship logs to suit my needs. And to my amazement, no one gave two shits who helped kill the king! All your sister cared about was making sure you got blamed and now that your father is rightfully rotting in the seven hells along with his dog Gregor Clegane no one will ever question how you did it. Which means no one will ever figure out that you nor Sansa killed Joffrey.”

Not missing the emphasis put on Gregor's and his father’s name Tyrion asked. “So who was it, Varys?”

After an unsettling laugh left his lips the drunk bastard of Swann vehemently shook his head. “The Spider didn't have the gall to kill Joffrey in such a public manner. You need to look in the opposite direction and ask yourself … who seemed to gain the least from it?” Before letting Tyrion answer the man quickly answered for him. “Your predecessor, Littlefinger.” After rushing over to a chest by his bed Maric threw open the lid and grabbed a heavy tome. “From your short time as Master of coin you nearly discovered the charade he’s been playing for all these years.” He then slammed the book in front of Tyrion which sent several game pieces flying off in multiple directions. As Tyrion examined the cover he recognized it as the financial logs he'd been studying as he was Master of Coin. “If you don't get it yet, then I'll inform you. It took Marwyn nearly a day to learn that despite the fact that the fat and bloated oaf of a King Robert Baratheon died, along with his expensive lifestyle … the amount of money the crown was losing never stopped. He must have known you were close to figuring it out because he offered you up as the sacrificial lamb and Olenna Tyrell had no qualms with you losing your head.”

Trying to wrap his head around the stunning conclusion Tyrion’s thoughts drifted to Sansa and her fate. “So-”

Now on a drunken rage and not willing to stop his confession, Maric went on almost screaming. “And then their was Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns.” Cracked Maric’s voice in apparent amusement. “For how shrewd she likes to think herself she truly is shortsighted in the grand scheme of things. She killed Joffrey to protect her granddaughter. Now she plans to have the supposed Virgin Queen marry Tommen in hopes he'll be easier for them to control. Maybe they think he won't know that she lost her maidenhead years ago.” Quickly he licked his lips and added in a half joking tone. “If Marwyn wouldn't have beat all that good sense into me I would have fucked her myself all those years ago.”

“So Olenna, Littlefinger, and you.” Uttered Tyrion as a feeling of uncontrollable rage for Maric turned his stomach. The Imp then tossed his cup of wine at Maric which the former only dodged partially. “You … you started all of this. You are the reason … I-I” Crumpling down to the floor in absolute disbelief he muttered under his breath. “I killed my father … and her.”

Absentmindedly the black-hearted bastard looked down at his wine stained tunic. Squatting down beside Tyrion he cruelly whispered. “It hurts to lose those you love doesn't it, Lannister.”

Quick as a cat, Tyrion smacked Maric across the mouth with the back of his hand. With an absolute lack of fear and reprisal, Tyrion spat directly in his face, and saw the spit land squarely between the bastard’s eyes. “Everything is your fault!”

Ignoring the slap from Tyrion, he wiped the wine colored saliva from his face, then he threw his hands up and remarked. “How rude of me! I haven't even finished my tale yet.” Leaning on the window sill the man folded his hands under his chin and continued. “So how did it go again? Oh yes, Marwyn and I supplied the strangler which killed your brother’s bastard. Then Petyr took it to a silversmith who made it into a charming hairnet which was then given to your wife. And we can't forget the final act, after Olenna swiped one of the crystal’s from Sansa during the wedding she handed it off to Garlan Tyrell who dropped it into Joffrey’s chalice while he taunted and tormented you.”

Swallowing down his anger Tyrion managed to ask. “What happened to Sansa, did you kill her?”

Maric then kicked the goblet from earlier and it slammed against a far wall in the cabin. “That was my one and only blunder which I suppose I must admit I shared in with Olenna. Littlefinger must have somehow slipped her out of the wedding and stole her away while my attention was drawn. And the Tyrells seemed to think they would have been able to divert all the blame onto you, freeing Sansa to marry Willas Tyrell.”

“So what did you get out of killing Joffrey? Tell me why I had to fall!” Demanded Tyrion as he unsteadily climbed back to his feet.

Before the bastard could answer the door slammed open and Marwyn rushed into the room. Looking first at the overturned table and spilled flagon of wine he starred at both of the men a look of pure shock. “What in Gods' name have you told him?” Asked Marwyn as he roughly pushed Tyrion out of the way to get to his ward.

As he tried to attend to the young man he was simply pushed away by the bastard as he drunkenly ordered him to get away. “He will hear my story.” Exclaimed the bastard as he stumbled to the chest at the foot of his bed. Rummaging through it he said. “You told me that I didn’t look any bit like the other Swanns. I told you my mother was a whore from Lys, do you remember?” Still not waiting for Tyrion’s answer he fished out a clear vial filled with cloudy liquid. Stumbling over to the basin he emptied the contents into the water.

After rushing to Maric’s side the Archmaester begged him. “You mustn't do this my Prince, it’s far too early.”

Pushing Marwyn away again the Imp watched as the bastard of Swann dipped his head into the shallow basin. Tyrion looked at the bull of a man and saw him shake his head in disbelief and angst. Smelling something akin to that of boiled eggs he followed the scent to the basin. “What is he doing?” He asked, but he received no answer from either men.

After a prolonged period of Maric scrubbing his head with the water he noticed a black liquid dripping from Maric's hair. Carefully studying the young man he saw a bright sheen of silver from his head. “You wanted the truth, Lannister? Well I'll give you all of it.” Removing himself from the basin now filled with dark and cloudy water the silver haired man stalked over to Tyrion and held him tight by the shoulders.

The Imp looked deep into Maric's violet eyes now only accentuated by his silver hair and stuttered out. “You were dyeing your hair-”

“Aye, I was. When I was still just a boy, I used to ask Marwyn, ‘why do I have to hide my hair? I like my hair just how it is.’ Then he would tell me of how bad people were looking to hurt me and that if I colored my hair they wouldn’t be able to find me.” He then pulled Tyrion so close that the latter could smell his breath. “But I’m not hiding anymore, and I will have my vengeance ... and I will save my Kingdom from your family.” Suddenly a rush of sailors came funneling into the room all were armed with weapons.

“I don't understand-”

Giving one passing glance towards the sailors he turned to Tyrion and said loud enough for all to hear. “I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. And I am the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms … and I will take what is mine with Fire and Blood.” Tearing his stained tunic over his head he tossed it through an opened window and commanded the sailors. “Now take this Lion off my ship and toss him into the Blackwater, maybe he can swim back to his cunt of a sister.” Before Tyrion could argue or struggle two very hairy sailors lifted him off the floor and carried him towards the door. Over his shoulder Tyrion heard the man call out. “But before you go … a deal is a deal. Take that cask of Arbor Gold and toss it overboard with him, he did win it fairly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was especially proud of this chapter, hope you all enjoyed it.


	7. A Maiden in the Clouds

Alayne:

 

It was a cold night at the Eyrie, but to Alayne it was nothing. As she held little Robert’s trembling hand, Alayne wondered if he truly had to be here. Smiling reassuringly down the little boy, she thought he would've looked very silly, all bound up in his heavy furs. On Robert’s left, Alayne saw Petyr Baelish flash her a knowing smile. As she averted her gaze, she peered at the still closed doors to the Crescent Chamber.

As Alayne recollected her earlier conversation yesterday with Petyr. She remembered his strict instructions, telling her to not speak unless spoken to and to not, under any circumstances meet eyes with his guest. _He knows who you are, and with the bounty the Lannisters have on your head we can't risk him finding you out._ Petyr had warned her while his hand slyly crept up her leg. _Then why are you letting him see me at all?_ Alayne had asked and then Petyr gently instructed her. _While we don't hold any allegiance to the Lannisters, it would not be wise to go out of our way to slight them. King Tommen the first ordered that we receive his councilor and for now we must bite our tongues, but I promise you that one day soon you will no longer need to hide and we will reclaim your home._ Then his eyes would drift to her bosom and his eyes would betray his true lust. 

Breaking Alayne from her thoughts is Robert as squeezed her hand gently, or as hard as he could, it mattered not for how weak he truly was. After he gained Alayne’s attention, he said just above a whisper. “How much longer? I want to go back to my room.” Stuttered Robert, as his teeth begun to chatter in the cold mountain air which only turned bitter at night.

Before Alayne responded to him, she tightly wrapped the furs around him. “You just have one more guest to receive and then you can I promise.”

“Why do I have to? I’m the Lord of the Vale and that mean’s I can do what I want and I don't want to see anyone else.”

Carefully she rubbed the boy’s cold shoulders and reminded him of his duties and that he must meet with them. She then called out to the servant Janei who was patiently waiting near the far wall and asked her to add logs to the fire as Lord Robert is cold.  A few minutes later, the doors swung open and Oswell Kettleblack strode into the room with haste. Stopping just before Petyr, he informed him that. “Your guest is being greeted and searched by Ser Lothar Brune as we speak.”

After another short delay Alayne heard laughter from outside the hall and recognized Lord Royce’s laughter. Entering the hall first, was the large and imposing Yohn Royce and behind him strode Maric Storm. Immediately she averted her gaze down to Robert, but not before she noticed Petyr stand to greet him. “I hope that the snow didn't impede your journey, Lord Swann.”

“Not at all Lord Baelish, it was a rather invigorating experience I thought. Climbing the snow covered Giant’s Lance is something I’ll brag to my children about.” Said Maric with audible pride. Tearing off his snow crusted black gloves, he handed them off to a servant and then dropped down to one knee in front of Robert. “It is so good to finally meet you Lord Arryn.”

Giving one sideways glance to Maric, little Robert snuggled up closer to Alayne. “Is this the man we were waiting for?” He asked Alayne.

“You mustn't be so rude Robert. He came all this way to pay you his respect.” Reminded Petyr and as he tried to gently remind Robert of his manners, the boy cowered at his touch and clutched at Alayne.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Exclaimed Maric as he returned to his feet.

“No I think it is.” Remarked Lord Royce angrily. “It worries me greatly that the Lord of the Vale cowers before such a pretty boy as this one.” Roughly smacking Maric on the back, he forced a quick chuckle out of the bastard of Swann.

Stealing a prolonged look at Maric while he was turned, Alayne thinks that he truly was pretty and even more so, while dressed in the white and black of his house. Alayne then admitted that he was even better looking than Joffrey was and that the only man she could think would challenge him was Loras. But where Loras was lithe and had bright eyes that promised adventure, Maric was lithe and had dark eyes that conveyed a sense of gentleness. Almost forgetting herself while she stared at him, Alayne quickly looked back down at Robert and rubbed his head.

“I don't mean to give offence Lord Royce, but I must ask you why you're here?” Asked Petyr, and as he said that Alayne remembered Petyr made it quite clear to the guards that only Maric would be allowed inside.

Lord Royce’s laughter suddenly died at that point and his eyes squinted in suspicion. “I was just welcoming the good Lord Swann here. Is there some reason I can’t stay? As a High Lord of the Vale, I see no reason why I shouldn't stay to help advise Lord Robert. And as Maric here just informed me, he is here on the orders of the Late Tywin Lannister. Apparently the Lannister’s are very concerned, that you haven't sent a response to any of their ravens.”

Petyr Baelish ever the master manipulator, shrewdly hid what ever alarm Alayne knew he must be feeling at Lord Royce’s admission. “While that is true Lord Royce, I do think your presence does alarm our good Lord Robert. And while his fear of Lord Swann is misplaced. I think you must admit that you yourself can be quite intimidating ... especially to such a timid boy like our young Lord Robert here.”

Before Lord Royce could speak up in protest, Maric grabbed the massive arm of Yohn Royce and held him back. “Please Lord Royce, I think for Lord Arryn's sake you can relent to Lord Baelish’s demands.”

As he looked back in forth between Petyr and Maric, Alayne saw the anger dissipate in his eyes. Alayne then saw the large man peer down unapprovingly at Robert as he hugged Alayne closer. “For Lord Arryn’s sake.” Said Lord Royce before he turned to leave the room.

Waiting until the doors to the hall shut close, Petyr offered Maric a seat. “Please sit, I’m sure you have much to discuss with Lord Robert and myself.” Snapping his fingers, Petyr summoned a servant who carried an offering of bread and salt to the Swann.

As Maric looked down at the offering, Alayne thought she saw a flash of a smile on his lips, as he remarked. “Guest rights don't seem to mean much of late, ever since Robb Stark was slain at his Uncle’s wedding.” Quickly his eyes shifted to Alayne, as said. “I do apologize my Lady, but I don't think I know your name?”

As Alayne offered her hand to Maric, he gently kissed it as Petyr explained to him. “How rude of me, this is my natural born daughter Alayne Stone.”

Turning to Petyr, Alayne noticed Maric’s lips turn up in a smirk as he replied. “Daughter is it? I didn't think you had any children, Lord Baelish.” Alayne then grew very nervous as Maric continued to study her. Thinking the ruse is up and that he knows who she is, Alayne tensed up in fear. But to her relief he simply gave her a courteous smile. “If I can be so bold my Lady, you are quite beautiful.” Lightheartedly laughing, he turned to Petyr and japed. “She certainly doesn't have much of you in her does she?” He then locked his dark eyes with Alayne’s own eyes, as he went on. “Blue eyes and high cheekbones … she could turn even the fairest of maidens green with envy. I’m sure her mother must have been a great beauty as well.”

“Oh she was.” Remarked Petyr not taking the bait. Trying to take Maric’s attention off of his daughter, Petyr encouraged him to sit. After Maric took a seat opposite Alayne’s, Petyr begun. “I understand Lord Tywin sent you here. But what I don't know is why?”

Politely eating a portion of bread and salt, Maric explained. “It made the Lord Tywin worry, that after you informed the council of your marriage to Lysa Arryn, you never contacted us again. Not after King’s Joffrey’s death … and not after we received word of your wife’s death.”

“You must understand, that I was wracked with grief over my beloved’s death. And not only that, but I also had to comfort my step-son, as after Lysa died he was left with nobody.” Petyr then reached over to Alayne and gently rubbed her hand. “And thankfully I’ve had my daughter to help me with that.” Ignoring Robert’s whimpering, Petyr pushed a long stray hair from his face.

As Maric smiled down at little Robert, Alayne noted how gentle his eyes are. “You have my condolences Lord Arryn.”

Feeling Petyr’s grip tighten, Alayne took that as her signal to leave. “I'm sorry father, but may I excuse Robert and myself? He shouldn't be up this late or he'll catch a cold.”

“I think that may be for the best.” Admitted Petyr. “You don't mind if it’s just us do you Lord Swann?”

“Of course not, I would hate if Lord Arryn here caught a chill. So please don’t mind me.”

“Then if you would, Alayne please bring him to his room. I'll visit you both when I'm done here.” As Alayne stood she was forced to pull little Robert to his feet. Giving her a few mumbles about wanting to be carried, Alayne wrapped her arm around his shoulders and escorted him to the door. “All of you leave as well. I wish to speak with our guest here privately.” Heard Alayne from over her shoulder, as she left the meeting hall.

Escorting little Sweetrobin through the cold halls of the Eyrie towards his room, Alayne saw many guards and servants alike along the way and all were whispering amongst themselves, but when she and Robert drew close enough to hear, they all politely bowed their heads. _None of them think he'll live long enough to make it to the Gates of the Moon._ Playing with a loose strain of his hair, Alayne felt genuine sympathy for her sickly cousin. _And even if he does, Petyr won't let him live much longer._

As they arrived at his rooms, Sweetrobin immediately climbed into the large bed and ordered that she join him. “Let me change first, and then I will.” She told him as she did every night. After changing into her night clothes, she climbed into the bed and like usual, Robert would snuggle up to her. Latching himself to her side, she felt his hands creep up to her breasts. After gently removing his hands, she reminded him that he mustn't do that and he is a big boy that doesn't need his mother’s milk. Only offering meager complaints to her after he closed his eyes and fell asleep in short order.

Unable to find sleep herself, Alayne studied the high ceiling of Robert’s room. _He hasn't touched me since before my Aunt died … but his looks haven’t stopped. And after Robin dies, I don't know what will stop him from taking it further._ Her thoughts then drifted to what Petyr had said about Harrold Hardyng. _Then he said I would marry Harrold … Mya told me he already has a bastard and Petyr said he has another of the way._

Minutes turned to hours as Alayne pondered her coming fate and Robert's, but just as she began to think that Petyr won't be joining her, a loud crash erupted outside of Robert’s bedroom. Looking down to her sleeping cousin, she was relieved to see him still sleeping. After slipping out of, she carefully tiptoed over to the door leading to the living area of Robert’s rooms. Peeking through the door she spots an overturned flagon of wine along with three smashed goblets, which she deduces must have been the crash she had heard. Looking for Petyr, she saw him seated with his head in his folded hands.

“Is everything alright.” Alayne asked softly as she came out from the doorway.

As Petyr turned to her, his eyes went up and down her form, and his gaze betrayed his desire to her. “Did I wake you?”

Shaking her head, Alayne knelt down to pick up the pieces of the goblets which had shattered. “I wasn't sleeping yet, but Robin was so we should be quiet.”

Quickly reaching down to her hands, Petyr pulled her away from the mess he'd made and seated her at the table. “The servants can get it.” He reminded her while softly caressing her hands.

“What were you angry about? Did he figure out who I was?” She asked him in fear, as Petyr’s lustful eyes continued to study her.

Shaking his head he dissuaded her fears as he pulled her to his chest with a gentle hug. “No, no … it was nothing you did. And even if he does know our secret, he will keep it to himself, I promise you that.” As he whispered in her ear, Alayne could smell the wine on his breath.

“How do you know he won't tell? Is he loyal to you like Ser Brune?”

Petyr then nodded his head and confirmed. “Yes he is, so do you see … there is nothing to worry about from him. In fact he and Lord Royce have both left for the Castle of Sky already.”

Noticing he responded far too quickly, Alayne remembered how Petyr told her that. _One of the greatest follies we make when lying, is that they think if they answer quickly enough there can be no way someone could guess it is false. But to those of us who know, there is no surer sign of lying._ Peering up at her supposed father, in a whisper she asked. “So what happened?”

Averting his gaze from Alayne’s prying blue eyes, Petyr stood from the table to gaze out one of the windows overlooking the Vale. “There has been troubling news from the North, it seems your half-brother Jon is now no longer a Snow … but now a real Stark.” Returning to Alayne’s side, he lifted her face to his and stared deeply into her eyes. “It seems he means to steal your inheritance, but I promise you we won’t let him.”

Bringing his lips to her’s, Alayne swallowed her pride and disgust as she felt his tongue slide past her teeth and into her mouth, while inside her head her thoughts drifted to her half-brother Jon.  _How? He's a bastard, not a Stark!_ As confusion ran through her head, she locked eyes with Petyr's pale green eyes. He took her unflinching stare as her consent and his hand slowly trailed up her waist towards her chest.

"You are so beautiful ... even more then your mother." He murmured in a haze.

"What about Harrold?"

His green eyes glazed as he stared at her. Without saying another word, he lifted her to her feet and lifted her onto the table. "It doesn't matter! No one will stop me from taking what always should have been mine!" Pushing Alayne onto her back, he tore at her dress like a ravenous animal, all while repeating. "You must be quiet."

Frozen with fear and not knowing what to do, Alayne spotted a crystal goblet on the table. Reaching out to it her fingertips tickle it. Leaning over her, Petyr begins kissing all along her neck as one hand pulled at her small clothes and his other hand pulled at his breeches. "Please not like this." She begged of him as she felt him simply give up and rip her small clothes open.  _Not like this. Please no._

"This may hurt, but I promise you that it will soon feel better then anything you have ever felt before." Murmured Petyr lustfully, as his words blended together in a fury. Groping Alayne's breast roughly his mouth mashed against her's as he forced his tongue into her mouth again.

Finding her reprieve at last, Alayne's hand wraps around the goblet and she thought of hitting Petyr with it before a better idea came to her. Giving the goblet one last push, Alayne sent it soaring through the air and it made a loud crashing noise as it shattered on Robert's bedroom door. Petyr then immediately paused his attempts and waited in silence.

Suddenly a loud scream echoed along with the cries, as Robert was abruptly woken from his slumber. And as he realized that Alayne was not still beside him, the sound his cries doubled.

Letting out an angry sigh, Petyr removed himself from Alayne. Quickly taking her opportunity to escape him, she called out to her crying cousin. "I'm coming Robert." As she returned to her feet, she looked down at her torn sleeping dress and sees a cloudy fluid sticking to her thigh. She then soon realized what is was as the strong scent met her nose. "I'm sorry Petyr, I must have knocked it off the table." Swallowing her disgust, she forced herself to give him a kiss on his cheek before returning to Robert's room.

As Alayne entered the room, Robert's nose crinkled up and he screamed. "What's that smell! I don't like it, make it go away!"

Alayne then reached down to the torn end of her dress and wiped Petyr's seed off herself.  _I don't like it anymore than you do._ Looking at the bed, she then saw a round stain on the sheet. Gritting her teeth and clenching her fist, she forced Robert to get up from the bed. Ordering him to stay put, she located a basin of water and began cleaning Robert's legs of the urine. After cleaning him as much as she could, Alayne went to change into a non soiled dress. "You'll need to take a bath now." She told him and gently took him by the hand and led him to the bathing room. As she called for a servant, she noticed Petyr leaving the room with a truly scary look of anger on his face. _One problem at a time San- ... Alayne._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading and comments are always appreciated.


	8. Snow No Longer

Jon:

 

"Jon ... or is it Lord Stark now?" Asked Edd Tollett as he peeked his head through the door.

Seated on his bed, Jon turned from Ghost to look at Edd. "You don't need to call me that, Jon is fine Edd." Replied Jon in annoyance as Edd had been doing that for nearly a week now.

"Apologies my Lord, or Jon." Japed Edd. He then stopped and stared down at Ghost for awhile before remembering why he was there. "King Stannis has requested your presence."

Jon simple nodded and continued petting Ghost's white fur. As he stared deep into the dire wolf's eyes, Jon was reminded of why he accepted Stannis' offer.  _I can't let Stannis burn my father's_ _weirwood. And I can't let the Stark name die ... even if it means breaking my vow. I had a chance to go south and save my family before and because I didn't, Robb died. I won't leave Arya to that monster._  Jon then stood up and reached for Longclaw. After strapping the sword to his waist Jon opened the door and called for Ghost to follow him.

As Jon stepped out into the freezing northern air, he rubbed at his arms already missing the fire burning in his room. He then watched as Ghost padded along towards the King's Tower, now inhabited by Stannis. He followed after the dire wolf, he was relieved to see no one in the training yard this early.  _The last thing I need is to hear more about the elections._

Suddenly Godry Farring stepped in front of Jon and blocked his way. As Jon tried to step around him, Godry persisted in stopping him. "I need to pass."

"I need to pass 'Ser'." Said Godry with arrogance deep his voice. "I'm a knight, bastard and you do well to remember it."

Jon stared up at the larger man and said back. "And I'm not a bastard, not since your King said I wasn't" Not waiting for his response Jon, pushed past him.

Seizing his arm to stop him, Godry warned Jon. "He's not just my King, he's yours too. And if it wasn't for his generosity you'd still be here rotting, while your sister get's fucked by Ramsay Bolton and god know's who else."

Without thinking Jon clenched his fist to strike strike Godry, but then Ser Justin Massey stepped in between them. "You forget yourself 'Giantslayer'. I'd apologize to the Lord Stark if I were you, or lest he test if you truly can live up to the your name." Justin then grabbed Jon by the arm and pulled him past Godry, but not before adding. "After all, he does possess a valyrian steel sword. It would be a shame to watch him embarrass a knight of our Liege's army."

As Justin continued to usher Jon away, they both heard Godry call out. "No northern bastard could ever best me. Mayhaps I'll take that sword for myself, after all a sword like that should be used for more than picking his arse."

Jon continued to ignore Godry's taunt, but saw Justin smirk and call back. "Aye, and I hope that lance of yours will be used for more than killing broken men. Or I'll have to kill them all myself." Instead of retorting Godry's face twisted in annoyance and he stormed off to the training yard to look for opponents. "You cannot let him break your composure, Lord Stark."

Giving Justin a sideways glance Jon remarked. "I'll try to remember."

"You don't need to be so icy, we don't have to be enemies. We could be friends my Lord."

Jon still remembered hearing of how Justin desired Winterfell for himself, and replied bluntly. "I have no need of more friends Ser Massey. But thank you anyway." He then stepped up his pace towards the King's Tower, leaving Justin Massey behind.

As he came upon the doors to the King's Tower, Jon spotted Ser Patrek of King's Mountain leaning back on the doors with his hand tightly gripping the handle to his sword. Jon then immediately found the cause of his fear as Ghost sat patiently in front of the knight waiting for Jon. "Ghost to me." Commanded Jon, causing the wolf to pace over to him. "King Stannis has requested me." Said Jon to Patrek.

Patrek opened his mouth to answer, but shifted his eyes quickly to Ghost and murmured. "Go right ahead, but your ... pet must stay outside."

Nodding to his demand's, Jon ordered Ghost to stay and stepped past the knight into the surprisingly warm tower. As he shut the door behind himself, Jon mused on how many logs they must keep burning for Stannis to keep it this warm. Climbing up the stairs to Stannis' room, Jon heard arguing at the top of the stairs, but as he got close it quieted. After Jon reached the iron studded door to Stannis' room, he still heard whispers so he carefully placed his ear to the door and hears. "You must keep him at the wall, I've seen it in my fires-"

"If I don't bring him with me, then the northern lords will think I deceived them when I sent my letters." Replied a hard voice that Jon recognized as Stannis'.

As Jon heard silence in the room, he quickly knocked on the door. "It's Jon Sno-Stark your Grace."

The door quickly swung inward and Melisandre quickly paced past Jon and locked eyes with him for a moment before descending down the staircase. "Well get in here then." Demanded Stannis."

Without further ado, Jon closed the door behind himself and bowed before Stannis. "You called for me."

Gesturing for Jon to stand back up and sit down. Stannis sounded as if he was angry, but Jon didn't know if he just always sounded like that. "Are you getting used to your new name?" He asked.

In his heart Jon wasn't, but he forced his true feelings down and replied. "I am your Grace."

"Good. Besides your sister, you are the only Stark left and you will be needed. So next time when you introduce yourself don't stutter on your name." Ordered Stannis as he ground his jaw in annoyance. "I suppose you heard us arguing as well?"

Now feeling embarrassed, Jon rubbed the back of his head and admitted. "I did."

"She would have me keep you at the wall as if you were still a brother in black. But I told her that I needed you, otherwise I wouldn't have legitimised you and released you from your vows. Do you know why?"

"You needed a Stark to claim the North for you." Answered Jon. 

Stannis then shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked over at his sword resting on a desk made of oak. "Some people believe that sword is magical, do you know that?"

"I do."

"You've seen it for yourself, so what do you think Lord Stark?"

 _What does he want me to say?_ Jon looked back and forth between Stannis and the sword still glowing under it's sheath. "I don't know."

Jon then thought he saw Stannis' lip tremble. "Me either. It does glow and shimmer like the sun that's undeniable to any man with eyes. But it doesn't strike down my enemies any differently than any other sword I've held. It doesn't let me peer into the mind's of my enemies. And it doesn't end the cold or darkness like Melisandre say's it will." Grinding his jaw, Stannis looked to Jon and said. "You asked me about that Tarly boy a few days ago yes?"

"I did, and have you reached a decision?"

Stannis nodded and rubbed his rough facial hair in thought. After what seemed like an eternity to Jon, Stannis finally murmured. "I've accepted your request, I'll release him from his oath's and he will travel to the Citadel to train as a maester. And after we regain Winterfell, he will be sworn to the castle."

Dropping to a knee, Jon thanked him.  _Sam would never survive here, he'll understand ... he'll have to._ "Thank you your Grace"

"Have you proposed to the wildling princess yet?"

 _Not this again._ Jon sighed internally and explained to Stannis again. "She's not a princess, they don't have rules like the ones we have south. She's just Val."

"Do you not desire her? Many of my knights do desire her hand. 'the Smiler' and 'the Slayer' both wanted her hand and your castle. And my wife Selyse wished for Ser Patrek to marry this wildling."

 _Ser Patrek would find more luck trying Ghost then to steal Val._ "But it's not how Wildlings do it, you can't simply demand that two people marry. The man must steal the woman from her bed and she is expected to fight him every step of the way. So you see it's not as simple as-"

"I don't have time to learn of the wildling customs, they will adapt to our own or I'll force them back over the wall. We will be marching south in half a fortnight. And you will either steal this woman as you put it, or you won't and I'll arrange a marriage for her myself. It is your choice."

"I understand, your Grace."

Stannis' eyes looked down at Jon's hand which was turning white while he tightly gripped his longsword. "Do you need something else, Lord Stark?"

"I wish for maester Aemon to go with Sam to the Citadel. It won't be safe for him up here, and he could be our only hope of the Citadel actually believing us and spreading the word."

"And why would it matter if they believed that the Others had returned? Do you think they command some great force that could stop them? They are only learned men who know writing and ravens." Replied Stannis in a tone that sounded angry to Jon, but he never could tell whether he was angry or not.

"They may have some valuable knowledge that only a Maester can view. And if their is such knowledge, then we will need it as soon as possible." Said Jon in a half truth. As Jon had heard numerous mention of king's blood from the mouths of Stannis's soldiers. Ser Godry had been the most fervent supporter of burning the wildlings who wouldn't convert.  _I won't let Godry and Stannis' red witch burn him._ Jon promised himself.

"I've already organized for this Samwell Tarly to be given voyage to Oldtown, but if you truly think it is worthwhile to send the old man then I will heed you."

"Thank you, you won't regret it I assure you."

Stannis' stern face crinkled up as his eyes drifted lower from Jon's face to his clothes. "You're still wearing a black cloak ... why is that?"

As Jon looked down at his attire, he murmured. "I don't have anything but this, your Grace."

"The northern clan's have sent me word that they will be here in less two days, and my Stark still looks a man of the wall." His lips pursed in either anger or disgust. "I'll have something made for you to wear." Getting out of his seat, Stannis paced over to the hearth fire burning bright in the otherwise monotone colored room.

"Thank you, but you mustn't go out of your way, your Grace-"

Without turning to face Jon, Stannis grunted. "It won't be going out of my way. I need a Stark and you need to look the part." He turned to Jon and added. "It won't be hard. You may have been a bastard, but your look gives away who you are." He turned back to the flames and let a silence creep over the room, but just as Jon was preparing to excuse himself, Stannis remarked. "I respected Lord Eddard did you know that? He was honorable and loyal."

"He was."

"I may had no true love for my brother Robert, but when he rebelled against 'the Mad King' I followed him anyway because he was my blood and that was my duty. He made many poor decisions that he shouldn't have, and still I followed him and held up his laws because we were family and that was my duty. Your father did the same, he followed Robert through the good times and the bad. Although he shared no blood with Robert, he still followed him and did all of his duties without fail and in that he was more honorable than most men could ever dream of being. And if you are half the man Lord Eddard was, then you are more than worthy of carrying on the Stark name."

 _Am I? If he was in my place would he have broken his vows to save his family?_   Jon in response to Stannis' kind words, bowed his head. "Thank you, I hope I can live up to him."

"As do I. Now leave me, I have other matters to settle."

Jon then left the room as Stannis continued to stare into the fire. Closing the door behind him Jon thought back on Stannis' words.   _I 'll need to make my decision soon. Which either I choose, Val will not be happy. She'll either be forced to marry me or one of the Queen's men._  As Jon left the tower and nodded to Ser Patrek and struggled to make his decision. Looking to the left, Jon saw Hardin's tower, where Val was staying. Instead Jon went the opposite and went looking for Sam.   _She won't be going anyway._  Jon assured himself, half in trepidation and half in fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading and comments are always appreciated.


	9. A Vision of Uncertainty

Tyrion:

 

"What will your Prince do when he learns that I still breathe I wonder?" Tyrion asked as he sat and watched Marwyn refill his cup with a red wine from Lys.

Marwyn gave Tyrion a sideways glance in slight amusement and annoyance. "He's not my Prince, he's our King."

Tyrion took a sip of his wine and his lips curved into a smirk. "I may be mistaken, but my nephew Tommen is the current King of the Seven Kingdoms and not ... Aegon."

"And we both know his Kingship will be short lived, now that your father is dead of course." Marwyn then nudged a lighthorse piece across the board. "You have my thanks for that, as now our victory will be all the simpler."

At the word father, the image of his Tywin's dead body on the privy flashed through Tyrion's mind and he felt a mixture of regret and satisfaction. It felt so strange to Tyrion, that not two weeks past the future seemed so secure and predictable. Joffrey would sit the Iron Throne with his new wife Margaery Tyrell, while Tywin acted as his hand. Cersei would still be her cunt self and Jaime would be still be Jaime. And now my father and Joffrey are dead, and I'm sharing a ship with Aegon Targaryen. Tyrion did know that he owed Marwyn thanks for stopping the sailors from tossing him overboard. At his word they simply carried him back to his cabin.

"So what are your plans?" Tyrion asked, while he studied the cyvasse board. While the supposed Aegon was a competent opponent he was still no match for Tyrion, but Marwyn on the other hand was the shrewdest player he had ever met. Never letting himself get cornered and never letting Tyrion lure him into any false sense of security.

"That would depend on you of course. I presume you've made some plans for your own future."

Tyrion noted Marwyn's lack of actual information and resigned himself that he'll have to be the aggressor if he wished to learn from this man. "I had thought of going to Dorne to crown my niece as Queen." Tyrion admitted and looked to Marwyn's face to see any reaction, but was met with nothing besides passive amusement.

"That would surely be the wrong move on your part." Marwyn responded and then downed his cup of wine. "The Dornish are surely in mourning over Prince Oberyn and a Lannister showing up will surely not improve their mood. I think besides King's Landing, Dorne is the last place you want to be right now."

"Wouldn't Dorne be the place you and Aegon would want to be? They are historically the closest allies the Targaryen's ever had. You could look to them as allies, after all he is Doran Martell's nephew." Tyrion knew he was going out on a limb for his niece, but added. "And my niece Myrcella is still unwed to Trystane, a betrothal could be broken and she could possibly bring the Stormlands as Robert's daughter."

Marwyn bellowed out in laughter and clutched at his belly. "Your niece is useless to Aegon, and why would we reward your family's continued treachery by letting her become Queen? We've already had your sister and look at what she is."

"Myrcella is a sweet, kind, and clever girl unlike her mother. He couldn't do much better than her I assure you, she'll be the most beautiful women in Kingdoms after she flowers."

"She's only eight and Aegon is nearly eight and ten. Even if I was willing to entertain the thought of the match, he'd have to wait nearly five years at the earliest." Marwyn then wiped the wine stain from his upper lip and refilled his cup. "And like it or not, you're with us until Aegon reveals himself to the world. I can't have you meddling in any of my plans out of any lingering love for your family."

"So who then, Arianne Martell?" Asked Tyrion. Resigning himself to the fact that he will be with Marwyn and his Aegon for the foreseeable future. Which is better than being tossed in the sea Tyrion admitted.

"Perhaps if I actually valued the strength of Dorne and if I decided that Aegon should be the King of Dorne then that would be prudent. But Dorne claimed to be able to raise fifty thousand soldiers and that is a gross exaggeration of their true power. I'd imagine their true strength to be nearly twenty and that includes the old and green."

"And it is twenty thousand more then you have." Tyrion remarked and finally made his next move by pushing a spearman to intercept Marwyn's cavalry.

Marwyn let loose a chuckle and immediately pushed a elephant piece around the spearman. "I'd much rather have eighty thousand."

Tyrion pondered where Marwyn's numbers came from. He then remembered that they were docked in Gulltown and thought of the Vale. They can't possible have that many troops. "The Vale doesn't have those numbers and unless his sister Rhaenys is still alive, there is no Arryn for Aegon to marry."

"While I do have plans for the Vale, they're not the allies I'm looking for." Marwyn grabbed the flagon and filled his cup to the brim. "The Tyrells are the allies I desire."

It was then Tyrion's turn to laugh and he exclaimed. "If you could pull that off then you truly are a mage. The Tyrells have already aligned themselves with the Crown."

"And you forget that he spent time at Highgarden, Garlan Tyrell considers Aegon a brother. and Willas Tyrell is all for the match if his sister is made Queen. You may not know this, but the Tyrells have always desired their blood to be in a King, and more then that is the fact that Willas remembers it was the Targaryens who they have to thank for the Reach. The match is favorable for both sides."

"Mace Tyrell and Olenna Tyrell knew who he really was? Why didn't they support him after Robert died then?"

Again Marwyn laughed and his round belly heaved up in down. "Mace Tyrell, 'the Lord Oaf of Highgarden'? He couldn't plot to steal a sweetcake, let alone be trusted with Aegon's life. And Olenna Tyrell's disdain for Targaryens is well noted after Daeron broke his betrothal to her."

"Does Margaery even know?"

"No, but it matters not. She wants to be Queen and every girl in the Kingdoms will dream of being his bride. She will be more than pleased with the match."

Tyrion's thoughts drifted to Aegon and his identity he used over the years. _I never would have guessed that the bastard boy I heard sing at Renly's name day would be this._ Tyrion thought of who actually knew of Aegon's true identity. "Gulian Swann is much more bold than anyone gives him credit for. Who would have guessed that Aegon was hiding in the Stormlands right under Robert's nose."

"His ambition was the only thing that matched his patience. He saw an opportunity for his family and took it, and the only one who knew that he wasn't a bastard was Balon. And he's played his part perfectly."

 _He's on the Kingsguard._ Tyrion remembered seeing Balon fighting in the Battle of the Blackwater and how he struck down many enemies with his heavy morningstar. "He was the one member of the Kingsguard, besides my brother that I was sure was honorable. He even spoke of my innocence when they accused me of killing Joffrey."

"That's because he is honorable. He won't kill Tommen if that's what you're afraid of, he's no Kingslayer."

"A claim that your Aegon can't make." Tyrion muttered as he made his next move.

Marwyn raised his cup at Tyrion and nodded. "And what a King he was." Then Marwyn and Tyrion both shared a drink to that. "Joffrey would have been a worse King then even Aerys was. At least Aerys was sane at one point."

Tyrion looked at Marwyn in surprise before remembering that this man was an archmaester and knew more than most ever could hope to. "I believed the same."

As they played, a silence fell over them and both men were unwilling to be the first to speak. After Tyrion had removed two of Marwyn's rabble, he finally forced himself to ask. "If he is real like you say he is, then how did you save him and why only him?"

As Tyrion finished, he saw a look of sadness in Marwyn's eyes and he murmured. "Before I tell you that, I think you need to know why." Tyrion nodded and urged Marwyn on. "It was nearly thirty years ago. I was still just a maester at that time, still strong and young and only half the age I am now. There was an abundance of maesters at that time, and there was nowhere for me to go so I was allowed a period of study from Citadel. I traveled far and wide during that time, I visited the deep dark island of Ibben and learned the language of their many tribes. I traveled to the Summer Isles and studied their religion. Even practiced it to." Marwyn chuckled lightly and wistfully at past memories.

Trying to lighten the mood Tyrion japed. "I've heard of their fertility goddess before. And from what I've heard of the religion, I've even practiced it myself."

Marwyn either didn't hear Tyrion or didn't care to respond as he went on. "But all of it was trivial and amounted to little more then piss in a chamber pot compared to what I found in Qarth. I'd met with several warlocks of the city and all I'd heard of Qarth before, was that they drank a substance called the shade of the evening. The warlocks claimed drinking it would remove all doubt in the world and would allow me to see my life for what it would be. But alas they would not let me taste it. I begged them over and over and every day I came to them on hands and knees for a simple taste."

"And did they finally relent?"

"They did not, they were firm in their resolve. Until after nearly an entire year spent in the city, they finally told me that if I wished a taste, I must travel to Asshai and to tell them of any animal I found. The journey took nearly a year and when i finally arrived, I couldn't explain anything that I saw. The waters glistened black in the sun and green by moonlight, and the fish in the water were all deformed and monstrous. I had to sell all of my books and herbs that I took with me just so the Shadowbinders would allow me to accompany them upriver. And in the end I found no living creatures." Marwyn sipped from his cup and wet his lips. "I was heartbroken and tired, so I loaded onto a ship and resigned myself to failure. And when I told the warlocks that I found no living land creature, they simply said it was a pity. As I turned to leave their presence, they told me that I would be allowed one taste for my efforts."

Enraptured by the man's tale, Tyrion completely forgot about their game of cyvasse and absentmindedly pushed a crossbowmen forward and asked. "And what was it like?'

Marwyn's lips curved in disgust and he informed Tyrion. "It tasted of ink and was as thick as honey. And as it slid down my throat, it became the most extraordinary thing to ever touch my tongue. I don't know how many times it changed it's taste, but when it stopped I felt as light as a feather. My eyes went heavy and when I closed them I was no longer myself, but I was a squire or maybe a child of some Lord. But what mattered was that I saw a silver-haired man who at the shock and anger of the crowd, passed by his wife to give a laurel of blue roses to a dark haired girl with grey eyes I'll never forget."

Tyrion simply muttered under his breath. "The tourney at Harrenhal."

"Aye ... and as she took the crown, the world melted around me and I was suddenly surrounded by weirwoods with their angry and sad faces all around me. As I walked I heard the laugh of a girl and upon finding the source, I saw the wolf girl and the silver-prince together swearing vows under a weirwood that seemed to laugh at me and my efforts while I watched them. As I tried to speak, her grey eyes stared through me and pierced my whole being, and my throat dried and I couldn't even breathe. In a panic I turned and ran from the trees and before I knew it I was in the throne room of the Red Keep. I saw a room of seven figures all standing together straight armed and unmoving. The first was a silver-haired man like the one I had ran from, but this one was stern faced and seemed to be judging me with his stare. The second was a woman who wore a gentle smile that spoke of love. The third was a dark and dour faced man who stood in front of the throne almost as if he guarded it. The fourth was a dwarf who shone of gold and with slight amusement in his eyes, studied me. The fifth was a man covered in soot, dirt, and ash, he gave me a hollow look of pity. The sixth was a woman who radiated beauty and dreamily looked to the heavens, hardly noticing me. And the seventh hid in the shadows with needlepoint in hand, not caring to look at me. As I stepped towards them, it turned to chaos as the first man fought the fifth before the seventh woman while she watched them with those same damn grey eyes that have haunted my dreams. The second woman turned and ran from the room towards the sound of children crying. The dour man simply turned and walked up the steps to the throne while the golden dwarf followed after him hesitantly. The sixth figure simply smiled at me as if trying to tell that everything would be alright and not to worry."

Tyrion tensed up as he realized who the dwarf was in Marwyn's eyes. "And ... what then?"

Marwyn's face scrunched up in pain. "I tripped and fell, but when I looked up I was laying in a burning field. As I stood, I heard the sounds of combat and the cries of dying men. Then a Knight dressed in black and gold armor stepped past me with a slender blade of steel that seemed to be washed in fire. And as I watched him move forward against another man, this one copper-skinned with a long braid that fell down his back and had bells tied in it moved to fight him. As they fought it seemed as if the heavens above us erupted in applause. But with a quick step the Knight killed the other man with a thrust through the heart. The however victory was short lived as then an identical man to the second who had golden hair instead of black, killed the Knight with a single swing of his sword. Decapitating him as the world around us burned down to nothing." The old archmaester looked to Tyrion in hopes of an answer and when none were given he went on. "I was then back in the Red Keep and I witnessed your brother strike down the Mad King. As I heard the shrieking of a woman, I begged for him to go to her, but he simply climbed the throne and ignored me. So I ran to the noise and when I entered Maegor's Keep I heard more screams and followed them to the Prince's apartment. What I saw has still haunted me to this very day ... as a monster of stone smashed a babe's head in his colossal grasp while raping a small dark skinned woman."

Tyrion felt shock run through him as he saw tears escape the archmaester's eyes. They forced Marwyn to stand and walk over to the open window for air. "And was that all?" Tyrion asked.

Sniffling loudly Marwyn hunched his shoulders over and answered. "Aye ... and it has haunted me ever since. The warlocks told me that it can grant visions of the past, present, future, and things that will never be. On that day I bid the warlocks farewell and they gave me one vial of the vile substance and told me that I would know what to do."

"How did you rescue Aegon then? And why only him, couldn't you have gotten them all out?"

Tyrion words seemed to bite into Marwyn as the older man cringed and suppressed a sob. "I wish I could have. I told Elia that her child had one chance to live and she begged us to take her daughter as well, but there was no time. It was simple to find a babe, all we had to do was shave it's head and make the switch and 'the Monster That Rides' made the switch impossible to notice when he crushed that poor babe's head in. By the time I understood exactly what I had visioned, it had been nearly fifteen years and I had so little time to react."

"And the reason you've told me all of this is because you think I'm the golden dwarf in your vision."

Marwyn returned to his seat and drank his cup again. "I believe so-"

A quick knock erupted on the door as the familiar voice of Derran ringed out. "M'lord ... M'lord ... you told me to tell you when ... well ... the M'lord got back and he has."

"Inform him that I need to see him." Marwyn called back and then waited until he heard Brennan stomping down the stairs in a sprint to go on. "You can't tell Aegon anything that I told you, he wouldn't understand."

Tyrion agreed and trying to lighten up the almost oppressing atmosphere he added. "Well when he sees I'm still alive I doubt I'll get the chance before he puts me to the sword. He seemed to be pretty sure that he wanted me dead the last time we talked."

"He knew you were still on the ship before he left. You simply embarrassed him and he couldn't face you after his little tantrum." Marwyn chuckled slightly which relieved Tyrion. "And you wondered why I kept him away from wine, the boy can't handle it and it makes him angry."

Tyrion then drank from his wine and urged Marwyn to make his next move. "You never told me how you saved him." Tyrion reminded.

"It wasn't as grand as you'd imagine. I arrived nearly two days before your father sacked the city and posed as a servant. It was risky as the Mad King looked for spies and assassins around every corner, but I knew how to keep myself from sight. Maegor's Holdfast was locked off to everyone that wasn't the Mad King or Elia, they wouldn't even allow servants or handmaidens inside. So I knew that when that fateful day came, I would have had to climb the castle and as you could imagine it was a daunting idea at the time. But when the sack came and Grand Maester Pycelle showed his true colors, a voice called out in my head and told me of a secret tunnel under the kitchens and as I traveled under the Red Keep, it kept leading me until I found a ladder that lead right under the royal nursery. After making the switch the voice kept leading me and I found my way to the bottom of Aegon's Hill right under the cliffs."

"A voice? You surely must be japing?" Tyrion asked with a chuckle under his breath and wondered if the old man was trying to play him.

Marwyn shrugged his shoulders. "I had seen many magics in my life, but none had been so blunt or effective as the one I heard that day. It rung out in my head as if they were my own thoughts. I asked the voice many questions, but it never responded to my questions and kept urging me onward."

The door opened and Tyrion saw Aegon strut in. His hair had been dyed back to the normal black Tyrion was used to seeing, but the silver was all he could see anymore. Aegon gave him one glance and his face paled in either anger or embarrassment, Tyrion would have guessed anger if not for what Marwyn had said earlier. "I see you're enjoying my cabin, Lannister."

Tyrion lifted his cup to Aegon and smiled. "I am, but not as much as your wine. Come and have a cup with me, I'd greatly enjoy another performance, I'd even dare say it was more entertaining than your singing."

His face paled an even lighter shade and he stomped past the table towards his chest at the foot of his bed. After retrieving a pair of breeches and a white tunic he asked Marwyn. "So what have you told him?"

"Not much I assure you, I had wanted to wait for you before we got too far ahead. But first, what did you learn?"

After moving behind a curtain to change his clothing, Aegon said. "It was as you guessed it would be. Many of the Lords in the Vale are chafing under Petyr already. And some are already openly planning for Harrold Hardyng to usurp the Eyrie."

"Then things are as we hoped." Marwyn uttered.

Aegon then appeared from behind the curtain in his new clothes and sat down on his bed. "Not quite ... little Robert looked to be ready to pass any day now. And Petyr has already made a move for Harrold, I don't know if he'll even let the child die naturally." Aegon then looked to Tyrion and added. "And he plans to use your wife to seduce the Young Falcon."

Tyrion choked on his wine and sputtered. "Sansa? He has her?"

Aegon chuckled lightly and nodded. "Clever little ruse he's playing up there. He's dyed her hair black to match his own and claimed that she is his bastard daughter. Little Robert looked to quite taken with her from what I saw."

"And how do you know that he plans to use her on Harrold?" Marwyn asked.

"To be sure Petyr couldn't make an attempt on my life, I attached myself to Yohn Royce. And as we traveled this way, we met up with Harry and Yohn forced him to come with us to Runestone where he promised him a Knighthood. He argued at first, talking about some betrothal and that Petyr had promised him the most beautiful girl in the Kingdom. Yohn told him that he could do much better than a bastard and tried to plant the idea of Harry marrying his youngest daughter Lyarra. He even offered that I come and sing at his other daughter's wedding to Mychel Redfort."

"He can't possibly think that a wedding between Sansa and Harrold would be legal, she is still my wife." Tyrion reminded the group.

Aegon snickered and lifted his lute to his lap. "Not only did you never consummate the wedding, but she was married against her family's will. It would never hold up if Sansa and Petyr brought the issue to a septon. For the moment the advantage is Petyr's, as the Vale is still at full strength and unbloodied. With Sansa he could claim the North and with Harrold or Robert he could claim the Vale."

"And while it may only be in name, he also is the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands." Said Marwyn as he studied the board, looking for his next move against Tyrion.

A silence fell on the room as Marwyn and Tyrion wordlessly played cyvasse, while Aegon played a sad tune on his lute. After feeling the ship pull from the harbor, Tyrion broke the silence. "So you never told me where we are going next?"

Marwyn pushed his dragon piece forward and told Tyrion. "Braavos."

Tyrion failed to suppress a chuckle and waited for the jape that never came. Looking into Marwyn's dull brown eyes, Tyrion exclaimed. "You plan to go to Braavos with the last male Targaryen? You're a learned man, you know that they hate dragons and everything they stood for."

"Yes everything they once stood for, but he will not enslave men or burn cities to the ground. And the Iron Bank will have it's gold and Aegon will assume that debt."

Aegon suddenly struck a sour note and exclaimed. "No reason to be so coy with him now, he's in it for the long haul now." Aegon hopped back to his feet and went to the far wall beside the door. "Perhaps he'll find these of some interest." Tyrion then saw Aegon's fingers lock under a board and lift it, revealing a secret compartment in the wall. As he turned to Tyrion he clutched two small boxes the size of hams. Putting both boxes on the bed, he motioned for Tyrion. "Have a look for yourself."

As Tyrion moved to Aegon's side he carefully unlatched the first box and opened it. Inside the box were two eggs, one red with golden flecks and black whorls, and the other was silver with an ascending golden stripe. Tyrion felt his heart stop as he stared at the object of many of his dreams. "Dragon eggs ... you have dragon eggs." Aegon may have responded, but Tyrion did not hear him and turned to the second box to open it. "You have four eggs." Tyrion muttered as he gently reached out and touched a fluorescent green egg quartered with black specks.

"The pride and folly of my forebears." Aegon said as he lifted the fourth egg and examined the dark blue shell with waves of gray. "I mean to use these for an army."

Tyrion turned to the still seated Marwyn, and asked. "Where did you find these?"

"I stole them from the Citadel and replaced them with replicas." Marwyn informed.

Aegon rubbed the blue egg wistfully and added. "None but a Targaryen could ever know the difference between a fake and the real thing. It's the heat you see ... to any other they feel cold and lifeless, but to me it feels alive and warm." Tyrion was snapped from his daze as Aegon slammed the boxes shut. "I will trade an egg to the Iron Bank to fund my army. It will prove to them that I have no desire for dragons to return and that I am the King in Westeros to back."

"And you still have three more." Tyrion reminded him.

"Well, I will need a large army." After he stowed the boxes back into their hiding place Aegon looked to Tyrion and asked him. "So join with me and help me to take back Westeros and I'll swear to every god there is, that Casterly Rock will be yours."

Tyrion's mind was overwhelmed at that prospect. And as he looked back in forth between Marwyn and Aegon he felt his stomach twist into knot. "I swear." He muttered as he dropped to a knee before Aegon.

"And I swear to you that when we take King's Landing, I'll leave your sister to you." Aegon then tapped Tyrion's shoulder lightly and pulled him to his feet. "Now rise, my friend, for as of today you will be my right Hand and together we will right all of our ancestor's wrongs. Together we will save the Kingdoms from those who have sought to destroy it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. If you have any questions or comments don't hesitate. 
> 
> Also if you notice any mistakes or typos please inform me and I'll correct them as soon as possible.


	10. A Dragon in Braavos

Samwell:

 

It had been running throughout the city of Braavos since they had arrived the day before. A dragon was in the city, but not a fire breathing beast like Sam had first thought when they had arrived, but a King. Sam had tried to learn what the dockworker had meant, but the language barrier was too much. Sam did know that without a healer, maester Aemon would die, and that he needed to find one. After getting Gilly, the baby, Aemon, and Dareon who was sent as a recruiter by the new Lord Commander Denys Mallister who he himself was chosen by Stannis; after he deemed the elections were going nowhere. Many argued that he couldn't do that, but Stannis reminded them that if he didn't break the wildlings then they would all be dead. Some such as Cotter Pyke and Janos Slynt weren't dissuaded and continued until Stannis threatened to give them to the fire. _That quieted them, that would quiet anyone._  Sam thought.

"What do they mean by a dragon? Aren't they big and dangerous?" Gilly whispered to Sam as they made their way through the densely packed crowd in the Ragman's Harbor.

Sam simply shot her a look to silence her and after gaining some distance from Dareon and Aemon, he told her. "They don't mean a real dragon, they mean that there is a Targaryen in the city." Her look of confusion didn't waver. "And Targaryen's are called dragons." _  
_

"Isn't Master Aemon's family name Targaryen?" She asked.

Sam ignored her insistence on calling Aemon a master instead of a maester and nodded. Falling back in line with Dareon and Aemon, they spotted an empty and rough looking Inn with a basilisk sign shuttering in the wind above the door. After entering the establishment and paying for two rooms, at a price Sam thought was more than exorbitant for what shape they were in, he left Aemon and Gilly together while himself and Dareon went looking for a healer and for information. "We'll have no coin left to get to Oldtown," Dareon had complained.

So after a long and arduous argument with the former minstrel from the Reach, Sam suggested he go sing for coin in one of the many inns. But after he had left, Sam regretted sending him away as now he was in the middle of a foreign city and he had no idea of where to go. After unsuccessfully communicating with several merchants and one dangerous looking bravo, Sam felt at a loss as he traveled past what looked to be a festival, where many children wore clay dragon masks and a performer blew fireballs high into the air. In desperation he began to simply ask every person he came across, and after asking nearly thirty more people by his count, he found a petite girl pushing a barrow towards the Purple Harbor and finally got his answer.

"House of the Red Hands." Was her response, and Sam was intrigued to find she had no Braavosi accent. But paying it no heed, he gave her his thanks and ran as fast as his legs would allow him towards where she had pointed him.

After he had found a man who claimed to be a healer, Sam parted with the last of his coin and then the man followed after him to the inn. After struggling through the dense crowd near the festival, Sam was horrified as he arrived back at the Inn and saw Gilly struggling to hold back maester Aemon, who was trying to force her out of his way to the street. "What's going on?" Sam asked in a panic.

"I must meet him." Muttered Aemon over and over, as he kept trying to force his way past Gilly and Sam. "I must learn if the boy truly lived." Sam easily held back the old man and begged him to return inside as the healer was here. "I don't care, I will hear his voice. Now let me go Samwell." Aemon demanded.

"I promise." Sam lied. "Now please let us go back inside and after we will go and find him." The tenseness from Aemon seemed to fade as he allowed Gilly and Sam to help him back back into the Inn and to his room, followed behind by the healer.

As they entered the room and forced Aemon to sit, Sam noticed the look of loss in the healer's eyes as he examined Aemon. Finding a seat near the open window of the room, Sam watched and listened to the festival until the sun began to set. As Sam felt his eyes starting to go heavy with exhaust, the healer returned to Sam and told him that their was nothing wrong with Aemon besides age, and that their was nothing anyone could do for him now. Sam went to Aemon's side and was relieved to see the old man asleep. After he covered the old maester with the nearest furs, Sam went to Gilly's room. After politely knocking and being allowed inside, he saw Gilly nursing the baby and informed her of what the healer had said.

"What are you going to do?" She asked.

Sam truly didn't know, he had spent all of the coin they were given on their rooms and on the healer for Aemon. "I sent Dareon to play for coin, and I suppose I could sell some of the books maester Aemon brought if we have to." Sam didn't want to do that, but he knew he would have to unless Dareon succeeded.

"And what will you do about the dragon?" Gilly asked.

Sam was at a loss for what she meant and replied. "What do you mean about the dragon? I told you it's not a real monster, It's just a man."

Gilly looked slightly irritated then. "I remember that, I'm not stupid. You promised him that you would bring him to that dragon King." She reminded him.

Sam sighed at Gilly's naivete and responded. "It's not how things are done Gilly, I can't just walk up to ... to wherever he is staying and ask to talk to him. If he is a King like everyone is saying out there, then I would need to schedule an appointment and I don't even know If I could do that."

"But you promised. You can't break your promise to him if he's dying."

Those words echoed through Sam's mind all night as he struggled to find some rest, as the city continued to echo all night with the sounds of celebration. He'd wanted to stay with Gilly that night, but he couldn't allow himself to be selfish as Aemon's life hung in uncertainty. As the morning sun rose and Sam awoke to the sound of the baby crying next door, he looked over to Aemon and was relieved to see Aemon still breathing, but was dismayed that Dareon had never returned. After breaking his fast with hard bread and fish stew supplied by the inn, he asked Gilly to keep watch on Aemon while he was gone.

After loading as many of the books as he could into a pale sack made of hessian, he found in the room, Sam set off to the merchant district hoping to sell the supposed rare books for coin. As he attempted to entice potential buyers, Sam felt at a loss trying to speak over the roar of celebrations and other merchants plying their goods. Although some did stop and study the books all turned their noses up at his asking price. With one rather mean Bravos threatening to geld Sam for inflating his prices and claimed they were cheaper the day before. Sam tried to explain that the man was mistaken, but he wouldn't be dissuaded and reached for his blade and then demanded that Sam hand over his copy of 'The Last of the Giants'. Reluctantly Sam was forced to part with the book, rather than attempt to fight the man.

"Why did you just let him take it?" Asked a voice from behind Sam.

Turning to the source of the voice, Sam saw the same dowdy dressed girl who gave him directions yesterday.  "Excuse me?" Sam asked her. She then repeated herself this time sounding annoyed. "He had a sword." Sam explained.

The girl made a point of looking at Sam's sword and said back. "And so do you. Why did you let him take it?"

 _What does she want me to say?_ Sam touched the handle of his blade and felt her stares borrowing into his soul. "I couldn't just fight him. Do I really look like I could've beaten him?" Sam asked in joking manner, trying to dampen the girl's fierce stare.

It did not and now she seemed angry as she repeated. "Why did you just give up? Is something wrong with you?"

 _I don't have time to be talked down to by this little girl._ Sam thought and then accidentally locked his eyes with her own judging gray eyes.  _Not that I think I could do stop her if I wanted._ Sam swallowed down his pride like he has so many times before and admitted. "I'm a craven alright. Now please I need to focus on selling the rest of these books, so unless you have coin please leave me be."

"There is no place for a coward in this world. And especially not in this city." She said with noticeable anger. As her hands went behind her back, Sam felt fear rise in his gut as he thought she was going for a weapon. "Don't lose this again, because next time I won't be here to get it back." Sam was shocked to see the book in her hands, but before he could thank her, she roughly shoved it in his hands and ran off into a nearby alleyway. 

As the day went on Sam had managed to sell three of the books and had nearly half of the coin he would need for everyone to make the trip to Oldtown.  _I still need to find Dareon, Gods do I hope he has the rest._ Sam was relieved however that the festival was finally starting to die down, but he had managed to make out from another merchant that it would pick up even louder tomorrow. As most of the merchants were closing up their shops and rolling their carts away, Sam saw two hooded figures and one that looked the height of a child in rough spun fabrics and was sure he heard one speak in the common tongue. "Can I interest any of you with books from the Westeros?" He asked and was relieved when the biggest of the group stopped and turned to him.

But that soon turned to fear as the man sauntered over to Sam and he realized just how intimidating this man truly was. "Books from Westeros you say." As he spoke Sam took note of the man's broken nose and wine stained teeth.

"Yes, many of these are rare and very old." Sam squeaked.

As the man's hands traveled over the covers of the books, he looked them over closely. "Aye, I've never seen many of these before. Where did you get them?"

Sam peered over the ox like man's shoulders and saw that his companions had taken notice and were coming this way as well, and to Sam's dismay the larger of the two had a sword at his hip. "They were brought from the Wall." Sam explained as he still kept a careful eye on the sword wielding man.

"Is something the matter." Asked the taller man in a melodious voice from under his tightly drawn hood.

The larger man shook his head and removed his hood, revealing a balding head and big ears with white hair poking out of them. "No." He answered to his companion and looked back at Sam, forcing the craven boy to shrink in his stare. "How did you come across them?"

"I was supposed to take them with me to the Citadel, but I needed coin to make it there."

"What are you a deserter, boy?" Asked the shortest man in a voice that betrayed Sam's initial thought of him being a child.

Sam quickly shook his head. "No I'm not a deserter I swear. I've been released from my oaths to study to be a maester my Lord."

The taller man chuckled and nudged the dwarf on the shoulder. "My Lord is it? This one is highborn."

The dwarfish man who was still obscured by his heavy hood, asked. "What is your name?"

"Samwell Tarly." Responded Sam, and he cursed himself as he did.

The ox of a man retrieved a purse from his belt. "Who released you from your vows Samwell Tarly?"

Sam paled under their questioning and as he looked at the taller man's sword, he couldn't force himself to stand up to them. "King Stannis Baratheon."

The dwarf laughed and then it was his turn to nudge the taller man in jest. "Did you hear him? King Stannis Baratheon?" The dwarf made sure to roll his tongue as he said the King's name and then said to Sam. "Unless you're soft in the head, and if you are then I don't think the Citadel is the right place for you. Then you must know that King Aegon Targaryen is in this city, and when he reclaims the Seven Kingdoms, all of Stannis' proclamations will be moot and invalid. And that means you're still a brother in black."

Sam doesn't fail to hear the venom in the dwarf's words, but ignores it as he has his entire life. "Forgive me my Lords, but if you aren't interested in purchasing any of these then I must be going."

"Hold on." Demanded the ox of a man. "I'm interested in them and have plenty of coin to pay you. But you said you came from the Wall, correct?" Sam nodded and noticed a flicker of excitement in the man's eyes. "Then you know the truth of what really has went on there." He tossed the purse to Samwell and informed him. "I could pay you for all these books and for your voyage to Oldtown if you would indulge me."

Sam weighed the heavy purse in his hand and after opening it and seeing the distinct gleam of gold he agreed. "But I don't even know your name."

The bald man laughed and introduced himself. "I'm Marwyn an archmaester at the Citadel." He pointed to the taller man and introduced him. "This is Maric Storm." He then pointed lower at the dwarf and addressed him. "And this is Hugo Hill."

"Pleasure." Was Maric's curt response and after that he turned to leave.

The dwarf Hugo snickered at Maric and bowed his head to Sam. "Forgive if I'm mistaken, but you wouldn't happen to be Randyll Tarly's son would you?" Sam nodded and Hugo added. "I didn't know he had a son other than his heir Dickon?"

As Marwyn begun to load his newly purchased books into the rough sack Sam had brought with him, Sam explained. "Dickon is my younger brother ... my father disinherited and sent me to the Wall. He always wanted a warrior son who would take up his mantle, and I was never that sort of person."

Sam then noticed a new softness in Hugo's voice as the dwarf responded. "You're not the first to call that tale your own."

Marwyn then smacked a heavy hand on Samwell's back. "We're off to the Happy Port for women and wine. And I do believe you owe me information Samwell."

In front of them Samwell got a glimpse at Hugo's horribly scarred face and missing nose when he japed. "And you needn't worry about your vows with us when you're there, if anybody asks you're just some poor Lord from the Reach."

Maric had a sizable distance away and called out to Sam. "And from the rumors we've heard, your black brother is there playing for coin."

Sam looked to Marwyn for clarification and the supposed archmaester reiterated. "I don't suppose you know of a singer who came from the Wall do you?"

"I do ... I sent him to play for coin to help us pay for the rest of the voyage." Sam explained.

"Well, I don't suppose you instructed him to marry and bed the Sailor's Wife did you?" Hugo chuckled out.

 _Dareon what did you do._ Sam remembered how dismissive Dareon was yesterday, but he didn't think he would so readily break his vows. "And he's laid claim to being the greatest singer in Braavos. Maric over there took offence when he heard." Marwyn told Sam in a whisper.

Sam stopped in his stride, then both Hugo and Marwyn turned to see what was wrong. "I wish I could join you, but I really must return to my room. I need to be sure my group is alright."

As he said that he instantly wished he had explained himself better, as Marwyn's eyes squinted in suspicion. "You don't mean to cheat me of what I'm owed, do you Tarly?"

"No, of course not. But I must make sure they are fed, as soon as I'm sure of their health I will meet you there, I swear my Lords."

Marwyn put his hands together and cracked them together, making Sam turn pale. But with a smirk he informed him. "Fine, I trust you. And please don't make me come looking for you, I promise that you won't like me If I have to." He then turned after Maric who was beginning to disappear in the night fog.

Hugo threw Samwell another smile and look at his ghastly face. "I'll be sure to save you a cup Samwell, but don't make us wait too long." Sam nodded and quickly turned around and paced towards his Inn, but not before he heard Hugo add. "And get rid of that sword, unless you plan to fight every Bravo you come across."

Upon entering the Inn, Sam heard screaming and rushed to Gilly's room and found no one. He called out for her frantically and heard her call out to him from his own room. Knocking open the door he saw Gilly along with the babe leaning over Aemon who was maintaining his shallow breaths. "Why did you scream?" Sam asked. "I thought something had happened to you."

Gilly stood up from her seat and pointed down rudely at Aemon. "He stopped breathing and then suddenly he grabbed my hand and demanded I take him to some Aegon. He scared me so much I thought it was like when we were Beyond the Wall."

Sam let out a sigh in relief and embraced Gilly. "It's alright." Sam exclaimed. "You worried me was all." After reluctantly breaking his embrace with Gilly, he leaned down over Aemon and asked the maester if he was alright. Aemon weakly clutched at the furs and asked Sam if they were going to meet Aegon. "You need to get your strength back first, and then we will."

Aemon let out a hoarse cough and told Sam. "I don't have much time Samwell, please I must hear his voice just once before I die. I will know the truth If I can just hear his voice once."

Sam felt Aemon pulling at his heartstrings and although he knew the old maester was blind, he still felt as if he could see him. "I'll do everything I can maester Aemon, I promise." He reached over to a flagon of water, he guessed Gilly must have gotten. After retrieving a cloth Sam soaked it and washed the sweat from Aemon's head, trying to calm the old man. "But I found the coin we need to book a ship. Everything's not lost yet I promise."

Aemon's eyes began to grow heavy and close, but before sleep overtook him he muttered. "As long as I meet Rhaegar's son once before I die." And those were the last words Sam ever heard Aemon say as he faded into his last slumber.

"Go to sleep and we'll see him tomorrow." Sam promised for the final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I should make it clear that it has been two months since the last chapter.
> 
> But anyway thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you have any preference for who the next chapter should be with, just tell me and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Not sure if I'll be able to update tomorrow, but if I don't the next chapter will be up on wednesday.


	11. The Heir's Little Bird

Alayne:

 

"He hasn't stopped fawning over you since you've met." Myranda whispered to Alayne as they both watched the men sparring below them, in the snow dusted training grounds.

As Alayne watched them fighting with sword and shield, she never took her eyes off of Harrold Hardyng as he battered on Mychel Redfort. She had met him nearly two weeks past and as soon as he had laid his eyes on her, she saw the same look in his eyes that Petyr had when he looked at her and she knew that he wanted her. _Now you must only keep him wanting for a little while longer my sweet, we just need enough time to pass and we will be able to claim your husband dead. Which will free you to marry Harrold and then you will no longer need to hide._ His voice rang out in her head even now, and while he still had not tried to force her like he did all those nights ago, Alayne knew that he would only be able to hold himself back for so long.

"He's tried to do much more than fawn." Alayne replied and still never took her eyes off of Harrold. She knew that he was the most handsome man in the Vale, with his light brown hair, deep blue eyes, and sweet dimples. Sansa would have instantly fallen for the man just as she did Joffrey. But Alayne was much different from Sansa, as Alayne knew that the outward appearance is never the true person and is only a facade for their lies. When Sansa first met Joffrey, she was smitten and no one not even her own sister could tell her differently.  _I thought life was a song then. And I thought I was to be the heroine._ But Alayne is different, she has learned and she knows that no one is who they seem and those who you would dismiss at first glance were usually the ones you should have held onto.

"And have you let him do anything?" Myranda asked in whisper, trying to gain any juicy information she could.

"It's never went beyond kissing, and it won't unless he marries me." Alayne said with finality, shutting down any rumors Myranda might think up. Alayne did truthfully liked the girl, but knew that she couldn't truly trust her with anything of importance. Alayne gave her a sideways glance and admired her looks, she was a fleshy and buxom woman only four years older than Alayne herself and already once wed.

"And is he a good kisser?" Myranda asked with a girlish giggle.

"He was magical." Sansa lied. While he was much more aggressive than Joffrey had ever been it wasn't near as awful. When Harrold had kissed her there was nothing gentle about it, he simply used his body to hold her still and would immediately force his tongue into her mouth. While it was not anywhere near as unpleasant as Petyr was with his stale breath, Harrold simply came on too strong and Alayne even felt that with some guidance he could improve.  _But now is not the time to refuse him or show any displeasure._ She had to remind herself when around him.

"I bet he is just as good in bed." Myranda snickered under her breath, only loud enough for Alayne to hear. The mood then turned more serious as she whispered. "I'm sure you've heard of his daughter Alys Stone, right?" Alayne nodded and tried not to let her mind linger on it, lest it taint her image of him. "And did you also hear that he has another child on the way, with some baker's daughter from Ironoaks?" Alayne had also heard that truth from the mouth of Petyr himself.  _But when he sees you he will think of nothing but you._ Petyr had promised her.

"And that is why I won't let it go any further, if he wishes to lay with me then any children we have will be trueborn."

As Alayne looked back down to the training grounds, she saw Harrold helping Mychel back to his feet after winning. As if he could feel her gaze, he turned upwards to the parapets and smiled his dazzling smile that would have surely melt Sansa's heart. But contrary to Harrold's desired effect, it simply made him pale in her thoughts. At night she would sometimes dream about Sandor, Tyrion, or even Jon saving her from Petyr and his plots.  _Sandor would never beat me, Tyrion always stood up for me and never forced me to lay with him, and Jon ... regardless of how I treated him he was always kind to me, and even if mother would never face the truth that Jon was more like father than anyone else, I would if we ever meet again._ Alayne promised and then remembered her manners and gave Harrold her most charming smile.

"Well I'll have you know that I'm praying to the Gods that you don't suffer the same fate I did on my wedding night."

Alayne then recalled hearing of how Myranda's husband died during their bedding. And while she would never tell Myranda to her face, she had also heard some mutter that she was cursed. "Thank you."

Myranda gently patted Alayne's gloved hand and reminded her. "Well we are friends. And while I do love Mya dearly, it is nice to have someone to gossip with."

At her mention of Mya Stone, Alayne remembered hearing whispers of her being King Robert's bastard daughter. She certainly had the coal-black hair and blue eyes most Baratheon's were known for, Alayne found the girl strange at times as she always dressed in pants and leather, and in some ways she reminded Alayne of her former sister. "I haven't seen Mya in a few days, have you?"

"I saw her set off for the Eyrie with her train of mules, it will be the last journey until winter passes. She should be here on the morrow with the last of Lord Robert's things I believe."

Alayne's heart sank as she thought of her poor Sweetrobin. She knew he was not getting better, and some days he couldn't leave his bed.  _But yet he holds on. And as long as he does, I'm safe._ Alayne would always muse every morning she woke, and upon seeing his shallow breathing still holding, she would gently place a kiss on his head and thank him. Petyr had told her that it was a true miracle that he lived the journey to the Gates of the Moon.  _But it matters not, for I promise you that he will pass soon._ Petyr told her over and over.

"Is his health improving?" Myranda asked with genuine sympathy. While many Lords and Ladies would only put forth a facade of grief and worry over Robert's health, Alayne saw the look Myranda would get in her eyes when she stared at her pitiful lord.

"No ... but he hasn't declined since we've gotten here." Alayne explained trying to give her friend some relief. "He does like better down here, it's not as cold and the wind is not as loud so he can sleep better."

Myranda smiled brightly, as she always enjoyed compliments that pertained to how she maintained her father's castle and Alayne knew that was Myranda's greatest pride. "Then my efforts were successful. Please give Lord Robert my best wishes. I still remember holding him when he was still a babe, if my memory serves me correct he once soiled on my dress as well."

 _Well he still does that._ Alayne admitted to herself in annoyance, as she still woke up every morn in his urine. But she always never complained and would always gently remind him that she loved her Sweetrobin and that he was a strong Lord beloved by all.  _But everyone besides himself knew that he wasn't strong._

"And he used to like when I sung to him, while I wouldn't claim true talent, he only shakes and cries when I try to sing to him now." Myranda complained.

"Ever since Marillion killed his mother," Alayne lied. "he can't abide by it and fears for his own life when he is sung to."

Myranda sighed and made her displeasure known. "And that monster has even ruined any parties I might host, what fun is a feast without songs?"

 "He was a monster ... he had tried to rape me once before." Alayne had admitted and then took a small bite of her lemon cake.

"What?" She spat out her wine in shock and grabbed Alayne's arm and shook it. "You can't be serious. Tell me everything." Myranda demanded.

"I hope everything is alright?" Asked a masculine voice from behind Alayne. As she turned to the voice she saw Harrold smiling at her, still dressed in his training outfit. She stood to rise for him, but Harrold stopped her. "Please sit my Lady, I intruded on you." He then kissed her hand, and flashed her another one of his brilliant smiles.

It was successful in knotting up Alayne's tummy, but not enough to make her stutter. "Everything is fine, my Love." Alayne promised.

Myranda gave Alayne a knowing look and excused herself. "I hope you'll excuse me Ser, but while Mychel is recovering from his thrashing I should go ask him of my cousin and see how she fares." After she passed by Harrold, she threw Alayne one more look over the Knights shoulder that told her she would be expecting details.

Harrold then took Myranda's vacated chair and asked Alayne of her day. "It has been fine, but you looked in good form down there." Alayne replied, trying to direct the conversation on him.

"When I know you're watching no man can best me." Harrold said, trying to not so subtly charm his betrothed. "Forgive me for being so blunt my Lady, but you are most beautiful."

"You are too kind, Ser-"

He quickly interrupted and reminded her. "Harry. Please call me Harry, we'll be married one day soon so it's only fitting you call me as such."

"Harry, would you like to go for a stroll?" Alayne asked, hoping to draw him away from the crowded training field. For she knew exactly what he wanted and what would placate him. 

He nodded and Alayne admired his dimples as he stood and lead her away to the southern wall. After they found a shaded area under a square tower, Harry wasted no time in kissing her. "I wanted this since I saw you watching me." He huffed in between kisses.

As Alayne felt his hand sliding up her thigh, she quickly grabbed him by his thick wrist. "Not here, only kissing." She told him and held his arm until she felt the strength in it melt away.

Harrold forced himself over her harder then she thought he meant to, but she felt the hard stone of the tower at her back as he whined into her mouth. "Don't you desire me? I desire you more then anything I ever have." His left forearm held Alayne's own arm against her body while his hand rubbed at her breast.

 _As much as those girl's you gave bastards to?_ Alayne struggled against his left arm as his right hand gently combed at her hair. She tried to speak, but his tongue finally found it's way into her mouth as it opened. To her relief it wasn't as strong as it had been when he first kissed her, and she guessed that he must be learning by her reactions.

He briefly broke their embrace, but still held her close as he moaned. "I've never tasted anything as good as you."

"It must be the lemon cake." Alayne explained and cursed herself at falling for his game, because as soon as she finished he returned his lips to her's in a renewed vigor. To her dismay her body was loosening in his embrace as if it had a mind of it's own.  _Don't be swept up Alayne, you're not Sansa and you don't fall for handsome men anymore, Now fight._ She commanded her body and managed to slip her arm up from under Harry's forearm.

As she tilted his head up to give herself a reprieve from him, he let his dismay be known as he asked her. "Why must you be so elusive?"

Not willing to let him break her resolve again, she told him. "We are not yet married. This is far as it must go until our wedding night."

"Why? Do you fear that I will not marry you if we do give into our love?"

 _Your love._ Alayne corrected him in her head and then did her best to look sad and confused. "I fear that I will be like those other girl's who you have children with."

To her delight, he took her bait without a second thought and held her hand to his chest. "I would never, I swear to you. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you." Alayne could almost hear the desperation in his voice.

"I'm sure you told those other girls the same." Alayne continued and could feel him tense up, and while he might be able to lie with his tongue, he couldn't lie with his body.

"Those girl's meant nothing to me I swear to you. But you mustn't hold me at fault for them, as I had not known you when I met them. And now that I have you I will never falter in my affections for you." He promised and then planted a kiss on her hand and dragged it to the center of his strong chest. "You took my heart the first time we kissed under the moonlight. One day when we have children I will tell them of the day I met their mother and of how she was the most beautiful woman in the world." He then added a small chuckle for good measure and finished. "But not that I will need to, as with their own eyes they will see the truth."

After she gave him silence as her answer, he took that as his go ahead and moved in closer. "I trust you." She murmured and just as his lips touched her's, she slipped under his grasp and when he turned to her in confusion she said. "But we will wait until our wedding night." Before he could argue she gave him a chaste kiss to silence him and then turned to leave. "I'll see you at supper tonight, and be sure to clean yourself ... you smell." She teased him and felt proud of herself.  _Now you only need to continue this until your Sweetrobin dies. And then you will be his._ She heard Petyr say in her head.

Eager to please her, Harry called out. "Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading.
> 
> Wasn't sure of myself on this chapter, but I did what I could without making Harry's attempt it too awkward or rapey because that was not what I intended.
> 
> Also does anyone know if Brienne has been knighted and if she has has been, could you tell me who? I tried looking through the books, but I had no luck.


	12. Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wish to understand all of the faces in this chapter and the current situation, I would recommend reading this excerpt from Winds of Winter. http://www.georgerrmartin.com/excerpt-from-the-winds-of-winter/

Mercedene:

 

 _I will have just enough time._ She told herself as she raced back to the Gate through fog and over bridges. As she arrived at the lopsided mummer's house she tried to push the doors open, but felt a strong force against the door. As she banged on the door with her fists she demanded to be let in.

The door opened slightly and a pale face she didn't recognize poked through the door and looked down at her dismissively. "Place is all full up." He announced and attempted to the shut the door.

"I'm part of the company." She protested and stopped the door from closing with her own body weight.

Undeterred by her, he spit out now vocally annoyed. "Then the act is over." Now using his full strength he pushed the door shut and nearly made Mercy lose her balance.

She pounded on the door again with her fists and only then noticed how deadly silent the entire structure truly was.  _They can't be at a intermission just yet._ She then threw a kick at the door, and knew that Bobono's voice should be heard from the street. The doorman still held firm and Mercy decided it was futile and ran to the back door.  _Izembaro will have my head If I'm late to my rape._  And she knew that no smile would forgive that.

After pushing her way through the back door she spotted Daena clutching at the curtain to the stage and heard a sweet voice booming. "Please forgive me for our intrusion, my good men and women. I had simply heard there was a Lion's servant in Braavos, that came all the way from Westeros and I couldn't resist." _  
_

As she drew closer to Daena she asked her what was going on. "It's the Dragon King." She murmured and timidly lifted her hand to point at Bobono who was clutching at his face while on his back. "He was just saying his lines when they filled onto the stage." Mercy followed Daena's hand as she pointed to a rough looking man standing beside a silver-haired man who was speaking to the crowd, and both men had their backs to them. "That big one kicked Bobono to silence him."

"And while this act is truly entertaining, it holds no truth if my memory serves." The Dragon King looked down at Bobono, who Mercy had just noticed was missing both of his front teeth and was bleeding all over the stage. "And this man is far easier to look at then the real thing, believe me."

"What do they want?" Mercy asked Daena in a hush.

"Who are you?" Demanded the Envoy from Westeros from high in his box above the stage.

The man chuckled and gave a theatrical spin, and as he did Mercy got a brief look at his face. "Oh you don't know me yet, do you Ser Cock? Well that hardly matters for you will soon." Mercy had heard the rumors and had even used the parties and festivals held in this supposed Dragon King's honor to gain information. She had heard them call him many names, Jaehaerys, Aerion, Daemon, and Haegon. They all had said that he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, but Arya knew that the true name was Aegon. And everyone in Westeros knew that Aegon was killed by the Mountain when he was still a babe.

"Ser Harys Swyft." The Envoy corrected him with anger in his voice. "You will show me my due respect Bravo. And what are all of you doing? Get rid of him!" The Bald Man demanded, but not one in attendance moved an inch.

Aegon waited a few seconds to see if anyone would act and after they didn't, he chuckled again. "I'm no Bravo, Ser Cock. And I wouldn't presume to order these freemen if I were you, they value freedom very strongly here." He walked off the stage and added a quick hop. While in the air his cloak fluttered and Mercy spotted a sheathed blade on the right of his hip, that he must have went to pains to hide. After landing in the Pit he continued. "And you should show me respect, Ser Cock. As I'm sure you once did my father." As he walked, the assembled crowd separated before him.

Mercy looked for where he was going and she noticed the older guard who stood with Raff was missing. She then turned her gaze higher and noticed Harys Swyft tightly squeezing the arm of his chair. "What makes you think I know your father, bastard?"

"Interesting choice of words." Aegon exclaimed as he passed by an armored man wearing rusty chainmail who bowed his head as he passed. "You would have known me as Maric Storm, I also believe you have my old position on the small council. Kevan Lannister wrote to me that my services would no longer be needed, but he didn't tell me I was replaced with his father by law."

Harys Swyft seemed to drop his guard then, and let his amusement be known. "Maric Storm? The bastard of Stonehelm is claiming to be Aegon Targaryen? You must be jesting, I saw the true Aegon's body after his head was smashed in by Ser Gregor Clegane. I could be mistaken, but your face looks most intact from here." Just then the Black Pearl's hand left his groin and went to her own waist, and while Harys didn't notice, Mercy did.

"Ser Cock, likes to make japes as well I see." He walked by a table of more armored men and one dwarf hidden under a heavy cloak and he patted the dwarf on the shoulder as he did.

Harys leaned forward in his seat and removed his arm from around the Black Pearl's waist. "If your story is true, then I dare say you are the greatest mummer in the city if not the world. If you wish I will crown you the King of the Mummers this night with a jester's crown."

"That will not be necessary, for I will be crowned the King of the Seven Kingdoms before Tommen's balls drop I can assure you." Aegon promised while he stepped up on a table as a slight chuckle ran through the masses.

"King Tommen." Harys warned Aegon. "He is King Tommen to you bastard. He will be the greatest King ever seen and his accomplishments will be uncountable."

Just then the rough looking man who had kicked Bobono turned to the Mercy and Daena. He was a truly ugly sight. Anyone could tell that just by looking at his crooked and yellow teeth, fully visible from underneath his severe harelip that reached to under his nose and exposed his pink gums. "You girl's better help your little friend there." He then looked down at Bobono with a look of perverse amusement before dropping off of the stage.

As Daena hesitantly stepped out from the curtains to check on the dwarf, Mercy followed behind and wondered where the rest of the troupe was hiding. Bobono looked up at Mercy with a look of pain and anguish and asked her to help him through the blood pouring between his new gap. She quickly looked around the stage and found one of his teeth while still listening to the exchange echoing throughout the room.

"Well I'm sure his accomplishments are already greater than your sole achievement of giving your daughter off to Kevan Lannister. But I suppose you could look at that as your greatest blunder too, after all when I reclaim my Kingdom her children and your grandchildren will be at the sole mercy of the very one you all despised and cursed." Aegon offered his hand to the dwarf sitting below him and pulled him up to the table.

A voice called out that teemed with amusement. "You're so kind, my King." The dwarf then tossed off his hood, and Mercy then thought the harelipped man looked quite comely when compared to the nose-less and massively scarred face of the dwarf. "But you mustn't worry, Ser Harys. I wouldn't hurt my cousin Janei. But I must ask you, does Lancel still live?"

"Kinslayer!" Roared Harys as he nearly tossed himself over the box. "First you murdered King Joffrey and then you murdered your father after you were caught in the act. I had heard the rumors you were hiding in Braavos amongst a mummers troupe, but I never thought it would be true."

"I didn't kill either of them, Ser ... but I also must admit that I didn't shed a tear for them either. I know you're not a clever man Ser Harys, but my name isn't hard to say."

Mercy then remembered that she was still near Bobono when he clutched at her leg in pain, while Daena gave him a wet rag to put in his mouth. As he leaned his head back in pain, Mercy noticed his nose was broken too and she saw a gleam in his left nostril. After getting a closer look, she carefully pulled it away and realized it was his second tooth. She then pressed both teeth into the dwarf's open hand and closed his fingers around them.

"You will burn in the Seven Hells, Tyrion." Harys replied with disgust heavy in his voice.

 _Tyrion Lannister._ Mercy said the name over and over in her head. She did remember him now, or rather Arya remembered him from when he was at Winterfell all the years ago. _Mercy was born in Braavos and knows nothing of any Winterfell._ She had to remind herself.

"Onto the subject of why I'm here." Aegon said in a more hushed tone that still managed to carry throughout the silent room. "The Iron Bank told me that you came to beg for an extension on your loan, but sadly for you ... I've already taken on that loan myself."

"You're going to pay the loan for the Crown?" Harys asked in confusion, but in Mercy's eyes he simply exposed his stupidity to the room.

Tyrion let loose a hearty laugh and explained. "That means the Iron Bank considers him the real King of Westeros. As in ... they support him and not Tommen."

Harys then felt the sting of embarrassment and exclaimed. "It matters not, for he is but a mummer who plays a dragon, and all of Westeros will see that fact and will shun his supposed right to the throne."

Mercy watched as Aegon raised his hand and snapped his fingers, which signaled all of the armored men including the harelipped man to spring into action and charge to Harys' box. "We will see Ser Cock, but you forget that not all forget their oaths."

A loud crack echoed through the room as the armored men broke down the door to Harys' box. It erupted into chaos as one of his guards took a sword through the eye and out the back of his head, while his other guard was tackled and brought to the ground with a loud thud. "What is this?!" Harys asked the Gods as he pushed the Black Pearl from his lap and jumped to his feet and went for his sword. "Stay back all of you!" He ordered and then screamed out in pain as the Black Pearl retrieved a thin blade from her dress and stabbed Harys in the groin. Taking that moment to strike, the armored men took Harys' weapon from him and began raining down a flurry of kicks and strikes.

"Try not to kill him." Tyrion asked, and Mercy then watched as the soldiers hoisted Harys to their shoulders and tossed him off the box. He landed with a bone crunching thud as his arm smacked off a table. But in truth Mercy wasn't sure if it was his arm hitting the table or his body hitting the floor that produced the noise.

Jumping off the table, Aegon stopped right before Harys. "You should have picked your companion for the night better, Ser Cock." He then crouched over the man and touched the handle of his slender blade. "Rather ornate and well made blade to use on a cock." He japed with a slight chuckle as the room still sat silent as a crypt.

Harys attempted to get off the ground and even got to his hands and knees before he felt the pain course through his body, forcing him to slump back to the floor. "Please ... I'm protected by guest rights." Harys begged.

The harelipped man appeared from the door behind Harys and grabbed him by the collar of his fine silks. After forcing him to his knees before Aegon, he spat out. "It's proper to kneel before a King, M'lord Cock." And then he shook him hard, rattling the broken man's body.

"This isn't my home, and I don't believe it is yours either. So who's law am I breaking?" Aegon asked in a sweet voice, that only made the whole scene more surreal to Mercy.

Tyrion now sitting on the table and kicking his stubby legs about, exclaimed in a humorous voice. "Guest rights are not recognized in Essos, Ser Harys."

"Unless anyone has any objections, shall I end this man's suffering?" Asked Aegon to the assembled crowd who were beginning to get excited.

Mercy peered around the room from the Pit to the highest box and saw the same look of blood lust rising in their eyes, even when she looked to Daena, the woman held a look of anticipation and could not take her eyes away.  _The ultimate entertainment._ Mercy mused and admitted that this was more excitement than any play could produce. It had everything Izembaro told her that a play needed, a hero, a villain, a twist, a fight, and all it lacked now was sex.

"Finish it." Huffed out the enormously fat Bessaro from his box above. "We need a climax and then the night will be complete." The crowd then erupted in cheers to the delight of the fat keyholder.

"He has a point ... but if we kill him then it will surely stain the floor." Tyrion mused to the jeers of the crowd, angry that he would deprive them of the end they desired.

"I would happily pay for whatever damage is done to the floor." Replied Lornel Antaryon; the son of the Sealord of Braavos. "Find wherever Izembaro is hiding and I'll pay him right now, I came all this way to see a chicken lose his head and by the Many-Faced God I will see it."

"Well I suppose it is all settled then." Aegon remarked and then pulled a slender blade from his hip and held it at Harys' throat. Mercy studied the blade from the distance and noticed how it had ripples going through the steel and following it to the handle she thought it looked silly due to how much larger his hand was. "Fire and Blood." He said and then swung the blade and carved away half of Hary's throat while a mist of blood sprayed into the air. As his head fell back from the force of the strike, the weight of his head tore away the remaining skin and rolled backwards from his shoulders. Mercy's ears then rung as the crowd composed of keyholders, merchants, common folk, and bravos roared in applause.

The head had rolled between the man's legs and splashed in a pool of red blood that looked of chicken blood to Mercy, but the head was stopped when the harelipped man firmly dropped his foot on it. "Well look at that, a chicken with his head cut off."

The ones in the crowd who heard him over the thunderous applause, shrieked in laughter. Mercy struggled to make out what Aegon had said to the harelipped man next. But after Aegon finished, Tyrion and him turned to the exit with Lornel who closely followed after them with his own guards that tailed him. "Mercy, help me with him." Daena begged as she tried to lift Bobono to his feet.

She had wanted to follow after them, but remembered that she was Mercy and not Arya Stark. Because Mercy didn't care about Westeros, as she was simply a Braavosi mummer who needed to help her troupe. As both of the girls forced the dwarf to his feet, Mercy felt he was being useless and stupid. _You're only missing teeth, not your legs._ Mercy screamed in her head. After they had carried him to the back behind the curtain, they still could clearly hear the patrons singing and cheering for an encore. "I'll be back." Mercy had murmured in a haste and as she ran for the back door, she had wondered if Daena had understood her or not. After running to the front of the Gate, she looked around for the group, but struggled to see anything not five feet away due to the heavy fog.  _Where did they go?_ She wondered.

"You heard him, now get this fucking craven to the harbor." Ordered a familiar voice from inside the Gate. Mercy quickly hid within the shadows and watched as the harelipped man led a group of five men who carried the last of Ser Harys' guards. "The King wants him brung there and said to put him on a ship headed for Westeros." As they passed by, she saw the harelipped man smash his captive behind the head and laugh. "You're lucky he wants the message to spread about what happened here, or I would finish you off myself." Mercy looked at the captive Lannister and almost felt pity as she saw blood starting to drip from his nose.

 _They'll be able to lead me._ Mercy deduced and breathed in and out to steady her heartbeat.  _No mistakes._ She ordered her body and after they gained enough space, she followed after them.

"So tell me true ... is the Queen as crazed as I've heard?" Asked one of soldiers who had an unusually high pitched voice for a man.

"The Queen is most fair and-"

The same man smashed his captive in the lower back and screamed at him. "I asked you if she was fucked in the head, not if she should be fucked." And somehow his voice rose even higher.

The harelipped leader of the group then threw a heavy and mailed fist that connected with the high pitched man's face and dropped him. "Did I say you could strike him ya cunt? No I didn't, so touch him again and I remove you arms and legs and toss you in the harbor." He warned. The high pitched man offered his apology and then stood up and fell back into line. "Well he asked you a question you fuck." A backhand slammed the guard in the back of the head.

"She is I suppose." He murmured, trying to hold back his tears.

Mercy continued to follow them through the dark and foggy streets and after staying out of sight, she watched them turn a corner so she paused in confusion.  _Where are they going? Ragman's Harbor is that way._ She waited for their voices to get further along before turning the corner.

"Where do you think you're going little girl?" Asked a voice before Mercy felt a heavy punch catch her in her tummy. Her vision went blurry and she saw spots. "I remember you from the mummer's hall." She suddenly was lifted from her feet and saw the man's harelip before his head slammed against her's, dazing her even more.

"Let me go." She slurred and tried to shake her arms free from his grasp, but he dragged her into an alleyway and tossed her against the wall and her head bounced against the stone.

He held her against the wall and roughly pulled at her woolen dress, tearing it at the shoulder. "You are quite a delicate thing." He said and started licking her neck, he grabbed and rubbed her chest. "I'll have fun breaking you."

 _No you won't._ She slipped the long thin blade from her sleeve, but her vision went hazy and the thrust missed it's mark and stuck him in the shoulder.

He almost didn't even register what had just happened and it took him a few glances to notice the blade sticking from his shoulder. "You little cunt!" He roared, and Mercy then leaned forward and bit his chin, her teeth rattling as she hit bone. "I'll fucking kill you." He screamed in pain and hit her in the tummy again, forcing her breath to escape her tight lips. He dropped her to the hard cobbled ground and threw a kick that hit her in the hip and made her vomit in pain.

"Mercy ... mercy ... mercy." She heaved and begged, as he forced her onto her back and separated her legs with his knees.

"This is gonna hurt you little bitch. Maybe when I'm done with ya I'll take a chunk off your face." She then heard him fumbling with the straps to his breeches. "This has been quite a night already." He grabbed her chin hard, and forced her to look at his ugly and deformed face. "You better not disappoint."

"Enough Branton." Ordered a stern voice.

Branton quickly looked behind him and gave Mercy enough space to strike, and so she did as her knee rose up and caught him in the groin. He roared out in anger and nearly struck her again, but his arm was stopped by the newcomer. "Get the fuck off me, I'ma kill this cunt."

"King Aegon has requested you." Stated the squat and wide set man.

Mercy heard Branton grit his teeth before growling. "I'll be there as soon as I finish up here."

"No ... you will go now." The man replied, not giving Branton any choice in the matter.

He then leaned in close enough to Mercy's face that she could smell his foul breath. "I'll be back, and when I do you'll wish you were dead." He then pulled away and laced up his breeches. "Where is he?"

"The Bright Star." Branton nodded and then quickly strode away from the alley, leaving Mercy and the newcomer alone in the darkness. The hooded man gently leaned over her, but Mercy kicked and scratched at him. "I won't hurt you I swear." He promised.

She still struggled to regain her vision, but looking under the hood she saw an old man looking back at her. Arya slowly reached around the cobblestone and felt intense fear rise in her as she couldn't find her needle. "Where is it?!" She screeched in a panic and immediately felt the intense pain in her head return. "Where's my needle!?"

The old man tore his cloak off and gently put it over Mercy, only for her to immediately kick it off and attempt to scramble back to her feet. As she stood, she lost her sight and felt gravity take over, but didn't feel herself hit the ground as the old man caught her. "If you're talking about this, then you have to promise you won't stick me with it." He murmured and held the skinny blade out.

"Give it back." She demanded and reached for it, only for the old man to pull it back out of her reach. "Fine, I promise."

The old man gave her a sideways glance. "You need to get back home. The streets are no place for a little girl to be at night." He then handed her back the blade. "Even for one as brave as you are."

"Thank you for the warning, old man." She replied and still felt lightheaded. "I can't believe I let him do that to me." She chastised herself, not actually meaning to speak out loud.

The old man held an arm thick with muscle out to her. "Let me help you. You can hardly stand, just one unlucky stumble and you'll fall into the bay and drown."

Mercy knocked his arm away with as much strength as she could muster. "I don't need help." She mumbled and used the wall to hold herself up. "See? I don't need your help."

The old man sighed and threw his cloak over her shoulders. "Fine, but take this ... it's dangerous for a girl like yourself to be walking around half naked as you are."

She then remembered that the Branton man tore her dress. Looking down she was relieved to see it didn't expose her chest and looked like a simple stitching would fix it. "Thanks." She murmured and then stumbled her way past the old man.

"You need someone to look at your head." He advised her, but she ignored him and only wanted to return to her room. "I am a maester, I could help you." He told her.

She shook her head weakly and felt like vomiting again. "I can go find a healer myself." She wanted to slap herself for saying that, as Mercy doesn't know what maesters are.

Arya heard his footsteps echoing behind her and she braced her blade. "Fine, have it your way." He stopped in front of her and placed two coins of gold in her palm. "You have my apologizes for his actions, but sellswords are not known for kindness, so take these and help yourself as you wish." He towered over her and smiled down kindly. "I promise that I'll talk to the King about Branton's actions and I can assure you he will trouble you no more."

Mercy felt the cold metal of the coins and could tell by the weight they were real. "Thank you ..." She murmured and attempted to pull away, but the old man wouldn't release his grip.

"Look at me." He demanded in rushed tone. She wordlessly locked her pale gray eyes with the maester's own brown eyes. "Get going girl." He ordered and then he released his grip and quickly paced off into the dark fog.

 As she hobbled back towards her room, she remembered that Raff's body still needed to be taken care of.  _And my night started off so well too._ _I took one name off my list only to add another ... Branton._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading, and if you care to then please tell me if you liked or hated it because It really motivates me to continue when I read feedback.


	13. A Play for Power

Tyrion:

 

"I'm still shaking." Aegon admitted as he strut down the cobbled street, while Tyrion did his best to keep up with his long stride. As they crossed a small bridge over a canal, Tyrion could still hear the crowd cheering from behind them at the mummer's house.

The distinct smell of iron filled the air and Tyrion guessed it came from Aegon's sheath. "You should have cleaned the blade before sheathing it, lest the wood rot away." Tyrion warned him, but Aegon gave no response and continued walking. The moon was dim in the sky and the fog remained heavy as it had been for days. _It's always foggy here._ Tyrion reminded himself and then stepped into a deep puddle that splashed onto his new boots and the cold water soaked through them to his feet.

The splashing sound seemed to wake Aegon and he turned to look at Tyrion. "Did you hear them cheering? They loved it ... they loved me." His voice was teeming with excitement and his eyes seemed to glow a haunting shade in the backdrop of dark fog behind him.

Tyrion heard the cheers just as well as him, but he knew that they cheered for the performance and not the actors. This was but Aegon's first move of unveiling himself to Westeros, and the stories of him killing Harys Swyft would spread fast and more so would the story of Tyrion sitting beside him. _And if that isn't the loudest move we could make I don't know what is._  It was a simple ploy that only required a few key players that Aegon had no difficulty persuading as the Iron Bank had warned them that Harys Swyft was on his way to negotiate with them, but fortunately for them they had already negotiated the loan onto Aegon's behalf.

One egg for good will Aegon had promised them, and one egg they had received. But in return they would support Aegon as King of Westeros and had also given him a personal loan for mercenaries.

And fortunately for them, the Stormbreakers' Commander was in Braavos and was open to new contracts. When Aegon and himself had first went to negotiate with Branton, Tyrion knew that he wouldn't like the man. He had a cruel tongue and even crueler face, but more so than that were the stories he had heard of the man. Stories of him torturing and maiming prisoners of war followed the group closely, and of a ten and four year old Branton taking control of the group by beating the old Commander to death with his bare hands. _If you want to win your war, then you'll not do better then me and my breakers._ Branton's promise echoed in Tyrion's head. When they had first met Aegon would not flinch or stutter as he negotiated the costs with the man, and Tyrion himself could feel the hatred coming off of the man when he looked at Tyrion. When Aegon took notice, he asked Branton if there was a problem and then Branton had told them a story of a dwarf who had raped his sister and of how ever since he has had a hatred for them.

"Father will be most excited to hear of your success." Said Lornel Antaryon as he broke Tyrion from his thoughts. Aegon simply nodded and clenched his fists over and over to steady himself. 

Lornel Antaryon, Tyrion had been quite suspicious of the rat-faced lad when they first met and still held some reservations over what he wanted, but the boy had immediately brought the matter of Braavos supporting Aegon to his ailing father. And while the Sealord would not provide any military support, he offered them lodgings and any other assistance they desired. Lornel had insisted that the city celebrate the first dragon to ever step into the city, and had organized several parties throughout the city in his honor. Tyrion had always heard of the great hatred the Braavosi held for the Targaryen's, but had seen no such resentment from anyone in the city. While he knew that they never joked about real fire breathing dragons, he still had seen children playing in dragon masks and wondered to himself if the stories were exaggerated or simply not existent in the younger generation of the city. The Iron Bank had been more than accommodating and had shown both Aegon and himself the utmost respect. 

"I apologize Lornel, but I won't be able to see him tonight. For Lord Tyrion and myself have much to finish this night." Aegon told Lornel, and Tyrion could see the spirit in the Braavosi falter in disappointment. Aegon then turned east towards the Bright Star Inn, where they both stayed. "Give your father my thanks for all of his assistance. Tonight is owed to him alone." Before allowing Lornel to give them a long speech of how he always is there to assist them, Aegon walked through the bright yellow doors and Tyrion followed closely behind.

"I saw Marwyn slip out of the side before we left." Tyrion whispered in a hush as both men climbed up the smooth granite stairs to their rooms.

Aegon nodded his understanding and bowed his head respectfully to a woman dressed in a drab grey dress, and after she had passed, he whispered. "Did he tell you where he was going?"

Tyrion shook his head and wondered himself what the Archmaester was up to.  _Ever since he bought those books, he's been withdrawn._ As Aegon stopped at the heavy door made of carved weirwood, he retrieved a iron key with the face of some sea-dwelling monster and inserted it into the lock and the door swung open. As they entered the central room connecting the bedrooms, Tyrion began unlacing his overcoat and grabbed a open letter from the table. After hanging the dark red silk coat over the chair, he read the letter and said out loud."The Bright Banners are in Norvos and have sent word that they will be in Braavos within the next month. They've also wrote that they have two hundred mounted archers along with four hundred archers on foot and six hundred spears and pikes."

Aegon leaned onto the open window overlooking the bay and struggled to pull off one of his dark boots. "And added with the Stormbreakers, that brings us to nearly three thousand and two hundred troops in all." He brushed his silver hair back and chuckled. "When I first wake in the morn, I'll often get confused and scared when I open my eyes and see this bright wave of hair instead of black."

"Still not used to it are you?" Asked Tyrion absentmindedly as he focused on the letter in front of him. "You should try losing a nose, then you'll really shock yourself." Tyrion dipped his quill in the dark ink several times and began to write.  _To the honorable house Royce of Runestone, I write on behalf of the one true King of Westeros; Aegon Targaryen the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his lady wife Elia Martell of Dorne. The tale of Aegon's demise was false and in truth the babe was saved that day and put into hiding just as his uncle Viserys and his aunt Daenerys were. Many of you will have known Aegon as Maric Storm the bastard of Stonehelm, but this deception was the only way he could ensure his safety from those who would seek to end his most noble bloodline. As you read this I urge you to remember the oaths your family had sworn and on this day I ask that you raise your swords and proclaim your true loyalty. Let it be known that those who had once conspired against the Targaryen's will be forgiven and all past crimes will be pardoned. We eagerly await your response._ Tyrion heard a sweet tune ring out from the window and saw Aegon in usual thinking position, as was his habit of playing his lute while looking out over the water. "Have you already written your own letter to Yohn Royce?" Aegon nodded and directed Tyrion to a folded letter. After Tyrion bundled both letters together with a length of twine, he noticed a neat stack of letters by Marwyn's work area.  _He must have already finished his part._ Tyrion determined.

"Do you think I did the right thing?" Aegon asked as he stared out the window to the foggy waters below, while he still played his stringed instrument quietly.

"What do you mean?" Tyrion asked as he looked at the wax seals on Marwyn's letters.

"Do you think I should've negotiated for only one egg instead of two?"

 _This again._ Tyrion knew that he would need his wits about him so he gently put the quill back down. "Your life is worth more then those two eggs, Aegon." Tyrion still vividly remembered waking to the sounds of muffled voices outside of his bedroom, at the time it seemed a dream, but Tyrion would never forget that thing's face until the day he died. "You simply struck before anyone else could, I never would have thought of it. Truthfully I didn't know it could be done."

"But it wasn't just the eggs either ... it was that oath as well." Aegon muttered in a daze of regret and confusion. "I could always feel their warmth, even when I wasn't touching them. But now I can only feel one's warmth and it isn't enough." He hopped off the window and went for the box that contained his last egg. After retrieving the dark blue and gray egg he hugged it to his chest. "I can understand how my ancestors became obsessed with them ... I imagine the joy I feel when holding it is something akin to holding a newborn child, as I want to protect it at all costs."

"And you promised-"

"I know what I promised. I just didn't think I would struggle with it or even care, but I do now. 'A promise must be made of suffering and of turmoil, no dragon will you ride and no cloud will you pass by.' It was what that ... thing told me." Aegon sat down opposite of Tyrion and continued reminiscing despite the fact that Tyrion very well remembered what had happened. "To protect myself from the God of Many Faces."

Tyrion remembered the thing's words and shivered as gooseprickles rose on his body. That night after he had opened the door to his room for a peak at the noise, he had saw that Aegon was seated straight backed in his chair as a man talked over him. But that man seemed to shimmer a darkness that killed off whatever light there was in the room and it made Tyrion feel cold and afraid. But as the intruder talked, Tyrion had struggled to pick up anything the person said to Aegon. But as Tyrion blinked, the man was suddenly facing him and Tyrion knew it impossible, but he swore that the man had no face. And only when he had blinked again did the man regain facial features. "He took the eggs, and then I blinked and he was gone like the wind."

"They will never trouble me for as long as I remember my oath." Aegon said and then unstrapped his sword from his waist and dropped it on the table. "It's a bit small for my hand." He murmured trying to change to subject.

Tyrion reached out and touched the ornate handle that was more than large enough for his own hand. "Every Knight in the world would kill for a Valyrian steel sword and you complain because yours is not big enough." Aegon then pulled the scabbard off and wiped the rippled blade down with a rough and pale cloth.

"I remember reading that it was made for a woman's hand." Aegon exclaimed and continued to clean the red blood off of the blade.

Tyrion returned his concentration to the letters he still needed to finish and started one for House Redfort. "If my memory serves me correct, the Dragonknight wielded the blade as well."

"He did." Aegon replied and admired the blade called Dark Sister. "It's lighter than any blade I've ever held before. It almost feels like I'm swinging a dagger and not a sword."

"It was a kingly gift." Tyrion had briefly wondered how Marwyn came to possess the blade, but knew he would have to wait for that answer.  _He never tells me whole truths, always halfs and parts._ Tyrion had come to learn and then he briefly pondered if Aegon knew more truths than him, but doubted it. "We'll have to send a gift to Bellegere, for she played her part perfectly." Tyrion looked to gain some reaction from Aegon, but was disappointed.

"That sounds prudent." Aegon said and then smirked at Tyrion. "Mayhaps you should deliver it personally. She is quite fair."

Tyrion darkened at his suggestion, as he was attempting to suggest the same to Aegon and remembered.  _But he is our good and chivalrous King who would never besmirch himself outside of his marital bed. Thanks to Marwyn filling the boy's head with the stories of the Blackfyres, he'll never find enjoyment outside of his music._ "She was only too happy to oblige when she met you ... I think she would much prefer it you then me."

He immediately regretted what he said as Aegon's face turned stern and hard. "I don't lay with whores." He stated firmly and forced his intense gaze onto Tyrion, who averted his gaze to the parchment he was writing on. "But you should have some fun yourself, you've been working yourself to the bone for me."

Then a loud and heavy knock echoed off of the door and a voice called in. "You wished to see me your Grace?" And Tyrion recognized the voice belonging to Branton.

Leaning over the table to Aegon, Tyrion asked in a whisper. "Did you summon him?"

Aegon shook his head and stood from the table. After reaching the door, he let the Commander of the Stormbreakers into the room, who to Tyrion looked worse than usual. "What is it?" Aegon asked as Branton immediately helped himself to a cup of Andalish sour.

"That maester of yours said you wanted to have a word." He replied and plopped down with a grunt in the chair beside Tyrion.

Tyrion looked over the ugly man noted his chin was bleeding profusely and it looked as if he was recently stabbed in the shoulder as well. "What happened to you?" Aegon asked in Tyrion's place.

Branton touched his chin and looked at the blood sticking to his fingers before replying. "Some little bitch was following me and the boys when we was bringing that man to port. So I waited for her to pass by and grabbed her. I thought I would have some fun with her, seeing as how my blood was running high from earlier."

"Have some fun?" Tyrion asked inquisitively even though he knew what the man had meant, but he wanted to be sure Aegon heard with his own ears.

"You know ... I was gonna fuck her, but the little bitch wouldn't stop squirming and then bit me. So I beat on her a bit to make her stop moving, and then your maester told me to stop because you wanted to see me."

While Tyrion knew of Aegon's extreme distaste of rape, Branton did not and Tyrion knew that would soon be a matter of further contention between the two so distinctly different men. "I'm paying you good coin ... but instead of doing what I asked of you, you were raping a girl." Aegon asked in a low voice that contained his disgust and anger poorly.

Branton didn't pick up on Aegon's anger and explained. "Well the boys had it under control and-"

"Don't do that again." Aegon commanded and threw a clean cloth at Branton who then placed it to his wounded chin. "My mother was raped before she was murdered ... did you know that?" He asked while his hand began to tremble again.

 _This will not be good._ Tyrion mused to himself and then took that opportunity to get away from Branton. After filling his own goblet with wine he waited by the cask for his own safety.

Branton pressed the cloth into his wound and stained the fabric with his blood. It looked like it stung as he tended to himself, but he managed to shake his head. "I didn't your Grace."

Aegon nodded and prowled over to Branton's side with meaning. "She was ... a monster called Gregor Clegane raped her and then murdered her." Aegon ran his fingers over the handle of his sword still resting on the table and Tyrion prayed that he didn't do anything reckless. "Now as I've told you, when we land in Westeros I will need the common people to rally beside me. That means no sacking, no pillaging, and no raping. So tell why you thought I would allow you to rape some girl in the very city that was kind enough to give us refuge?"

"It was just some woman-"

"My mother was a woman as well." Aegon's voice stemmed off in cold fury and he warned the man. "Remember that the next time you think about shoving your prick inside some poor unwilling woman will you?" Aegon hopped off the table and Tyrion noted the look of anger in Branton's eyes and of how it paled before the fury still in Aegon's eyes. "You may go now." Aegon commanded as he held the door open expectantly.

Branton stood from the table and took his goblet with him. "As you wish." After he had left the room, Aegon slammed the door shut and locked it.

"That man will be a problem, but you've already realized that I assume?"

"Aye I do. It's a pity my Aunt stirred up the nest that was Slaver's Bay or I would have had more options to choose from. But Marwyn told me he would investigate possible replacements within the Stormbreakers."

"That's a dangerous game to be playing." Tyrion warned, as it wouldn't do Aegon any good if he turned the Stormbreakers against himself.

Aegon let out a chuckle that broke the somberness. "Not so much as playing the game of thrones. And I've been playing that in some capacity since I was a boy." Tyrion nodded and returned to his seat at the table with a full cup of wine.

"Onto the subject of your Aunt," Tyrion paused to gauge Aegon's reaction.

With a roll of his eyes, Aegon replied half-hardheartedly. "Yes, what about her?"

"She does have three fully grown dragons if the rumors are to be believed. And if we could at least secure a formal alliance from her or perhaps a marriage-"

Aegon let out a snicker and looked at Tyrion as if he were crazy. "She'll claim that I'm a fake regardless of her true feelings, because she knows that acknowledging me puts my claim ahead of hers."

"I understand that," Tyrion tried not to sound annoyed. "But the gesture would-"

"And I can't marry her, I need to marry Margaery Tyrell to gain her father's troops." Aegon reminded Tyrion as if he had forgotten.

Tyrion knew that he would have to dig his heels in for this fight. "But can you truly trust the Tyrells on this? They are ambitious power grabbers who will do whatever it takes to achieve their goals. It would be more prudent to not put all of our coins in one purse as the saying goes."

Aegon let out a brief snicker and asked. "As my right Hand what would you suggest then?" He reached over a took a sip from Tyrion's cup, and from the look on his face he immediately regretted it after the green liquid touched his tongue.

Tyrion snatched the goblet from Aegon and took a deep gulp from it before reminding Aegon of his weakness and that he needed him coherent. "Plans always change, and while I know you trust Garlan and WIllas Tyrell you must have a second plan in place. That is why I've already made this." Tyrion searched through his overflowing pile of letters and thought to himself that he should've organized them better. But after a short delay he found the letter and held it up for Aegon.

After retrieving the letter, Aegon skimmed over it and his lips curved up in a smile. "This again is it? I've already told you that I don't need to marry Arianne Martell to get Dorne on my side, Doran is my uncle and it would look poorly on him if he didn't support his own blood."

"And they could claim that you're a false dragon and that they don't share blood with you. But if you married his daughter it wouldn't matter." Tyrion explained and continued. "And don't misunderstand, I'm not saying that she will be our first option because for all I know the Tyrells could uphold their end of the deal and we will have them." Tyrion could see the turmoil inside of Aegon as his smile quivered.

"Send the your letter ... but make sure that it contains nothing of any marriage alliance, lest I do marry Margaery. It would surely anger them if I promised that to them and then turned my back." Aegon slid the letter back to Tyrion and added. "I don't mean to follow in Robb Stark's footsteps."

Tyrion chuckled and murmured loud enough for Aegon to hear. "Thank the Gods." Aegon returned his sword to it's simple and plain sheath, and tried to return to his music, but Tyrion stopped him. "We aren't done quite yet. We still haven't settler matters on Daenerys."

Aegon's shoulders slumped and Tyrion couldn't be sure, but he guessed that Aegon sighed as well. "Fine speak then." And then he returned to his seat and looked agitated to Tyrion.

"We should send her a letter informing her of your intention in retaking Westeros along with an offer to join us. And even if she doesn't respond it will strengthen your cause and worth in her eyes. You must remember that she was once a Khaleesi to a Dothraki horde, and the Dothraki only respected strength."

"Fine do what you wish, I'll trust that you know what you're doing." Aegon replied rather bluntly and clearly seemed frustrated to Tyrion.

As Aegon stood from the table and returned to the open window, Tyrion wondered what was going on inside his head.  _Every time I bring up Daenerys and her dragons, Marwyn and Aegon act odd._ Secrets and half truths are what they live on and feed each other, Tyrion remembered.  _It's almost as if we are already a small council and their is only three of us._ "Are you ready for tomorrow?" Asked Tyrion.

Without turning to face him, Aegon replied. "Of course ... I've been waiting for this moment since he told me about it." Aegon tried to sound confident, but his voice was shaky and betrayed his true feelings. "I'll finally see the future Marwyn promised me I would."

Tyrion felt his eyes draw him to the cupboard hanging over Marwyn's work space, and knew that the blue substance was there waiting for Aegon's lips and had been waiting for many years. _Shade of the evening._ Tyrion said over and over in his head and couldn't shake the feeling of dread when he thought of Marwyn's experience. "It will be interesting." Tyrion whispered to himself and continued on his letter.  _To the most honorable house Redfort of ... the Redfort, terribly clever family name._ Tyrion joked to himself as Aegon's began to hum 'A Thousand Eyes, and one'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things frequently.


	14. A Mentor's Farewell

Samwell:

 

"You should have eaten more." Sam said with concern heavy in his voice as Gilly and him walked up the staircase to their shared room. Having just come from the breakfast the Inn supplied to them.

Gilly sighed and made her annoyance known as she snuggled the baby closer to her chest. "I wasn't hungry."

Sam gently put his arm behind her. "But you only ate a bit of brown bread last night, you don't need to reserve yourself."

"I'm fine Sam, why won't-" Gilly then paused as they reached the top of the stairs and pointed to their door and asked. "What's that over there?"

Sam looked at the door and noticed a note hanging from it. After carefully walking to it he noted the neat penmanship and read the name Marwyn at the top.  _You will meet me at the Bright Star Inn._ Read the letter nailed to the door to Sam's room. He looked around the hallway and after realizing that no one was watching, he pulled the nail and letter from the door. Gilly gently tapped him on the shoulder and asked him what is was. "It's a letter." Sam replied and then ushered Gilly into their shared room. Sam didn't think it made sense to rent two rooms when Gilly's room already had a bed she wasn't using.

"Well what does it read?" Gilly asked as she sat on her bed and began feeding the baby.

Sam looked over the note and felt his stomach knot up at the thought of meeting Marwyn again. Sam had forgotten completely about his promise to the man and his offer.  _But I had no choice._ Sam told himself.   _I had to ..._ Sam couldn't even finish his thought as the pain was still too fresh, as Sam and Gilly had maester Aemon's body brought to the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea and cremated the day earlier. With a bit of the coin Marwyn had given him, Sam had bought a urn of black steel for Aemon's ashes.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Sam tore his mind away from Aemon and nodded. "I'm fine ... I just miss maester Aemon is all." Sam then tried to relieve Gilly's mind with a quick smile and not make her worry.  _She does certainly take to those new clothes._ Sam thought as he looked over the doe eyed girl's new dress of green and bright red, he had thought she would need a more appropriate attire for the south, as her old furs would be far too hot in that climate. Sam then blushed furiously as the baby's mouth released Gilly's nipple and it came into full view. She didn't notice his stares and tried to reach out for the note in his hand, but Sam pulled it away. "I just need to go see the man who gave me the coin is all."

Gilly stared into his eyes and thankfully for Sam, she didn't notice his red cheeks. "You're afraid."

"No I'm not." Sam replied and then stuffed the letter into his belt. "I'll be back before too long I promise." With that Sam gave one last look at the urn resting on the table beside his bed, and walked to the door.

"Don't break this promise." Gilly murmured just loud enough for Sam to hear and for it to hurt him.

 _I won't._ Sam had wanted to say, but couldn't and simply left the room silently. After closing the door and locking it shut, he walked back down to the lobby and out into the cold morning air. Sam noted how empty the streets were today and spotted a single woman on the street who was diligently sweeping the cobblestone in front of her shop with a tiny broom. "What hour is it?" He asked her in his best effort at speaking Braavosi.

But to his luck it was good enough and she called out. "Six, but nearly seven I believe." She called back and then returned to her sweeping.

Sam looked to the sky and struggled to find the sun rising behind the heavy clouds. He then remembered that he didn't actually know where the Bright Star Inn was, so he approached the sweeping woman and asked her if she knew. She nodded and pointed down a street that ran north.

He followed her directions the best he could and as he passed by several mean looking bravos, Sam was thankful he left his sword back in his room. While walking through the Purple Harbor, Sam felt very out of place as many who passed him wore the dark blues, grays, and purples that identified them as being wealthy. Looking around a street that looked to contain several prominent and very luxurious inns, Sam still had no idea which one was the Bright Star.  _At least the inexpensive ones have signs and such._ Sam complained as he walked up and down the cobbled street.

"What are ya doing acting all suspicious like that for fat boy." Growled out a voice from behind Sam that nearly made him lose his bowels.

As Sam turned to the voice, he immediately regretted coming here as he stared up at a grotesque monster of a man, who had a severe harelip and chin that looked infected. "I'm sorry, I was just leaving." Sam squeaked and tried to turn from the man, but he grabbed Sam by the shoulder and stopped him.

"I asked ya a question." The man spat and forced Sam to turn back to him.

Sam felt his head going numb and was sure that this was the day he was going to die. "I- I ... I was supposed to-to meet archmaester Marwyn." Sam managed to stutter out.

A grotesque smile formed on the man's face and he jumped at Sam, and in a panic Sam fell over onto the hard cobblestone. Sam covered himself, waiting for whatever came next, but only heard a bellowing of laughter from above him. "He lives over there." The man stated between laughs and pointed at a three storied and black bricked building. "First room at the top of the second floor." He then walked by Sam, still snickering.

"Thanks." Sam whispered and then pulled himself back to his feet. He walked in the building and couldn't help but to admire the mosaic floor of the inn which depicted the Titan of Braavos plucking a golden star from the moon.  _Much nicer than the Basilisk._ Sam thought as he walked up the granite stairs and let his hand slide up the smooth railing. When he made it to the second floor, Sam took a moment to study the weirwood door in front of him and remembered the Black Gate at the Nightfort.  _Hopefully this one doesn't speak as well._ Sam prayed and then knocked on the door.

It took a few moments before the door swung open and Marwyn stood before Sam with a fierce scowl, but it soon turned to a smile when he looked at him. "Ahh it's you Tarly, come on in. Make yourself comfortable." Marwyn ushered Sam into the room and quickly shut the door behind them. As Sam looked around the room, he was surprised to find that it was a living area for the inhabitants. "Would you like something to drink? I just opened a cask of plum wine."

"That would great." Sam replied and then Marwyn pointed him to a table in the center of the room. As Sam took his and waited for Marwyn to return with the wine, he looked around the room and noticed a silver haired man seated by the window in a heavy oaken chair that had his back to him.  _How did I miss him?_ Sam wondered and felt nervous as he sat alone and stared at the man's back while he peered out the window towards the bay.

"Good to see you found the room alright." Marwyn said as he returned to the room with a tray of two crystal goblets and a dark red flagon.

"I was lost for a bit." Sam admitted as he watched Marwyn pour him a cup of wine.

Marwyn poured his own cup and made a noise of annoyance. "I asked Branton if he could keep an eye out for you. It seems he ignored my request."

Sam sipped his wine and enjoyed the taste of the sweet liquid, and it made him remember the days he spent in Oldtown as a child. "There was someone out there, but he had a harelip."

"That is Branton alright." Marwyn said before taking a deep drink. "I hope he didn't scare you too much. He is rather unfortunate to look at."

Sam hid his eyes in his cup to avoid the look Marwyn was giving him and murmured. "Well ... he did knock me down. And he laughed at me." Sam admitted and then regretted it.  _What are you a child?_ He asked himself.

The man sitting at the window seemed to growl in anger when Sam finished. Marwyn himself turned to look at the man and asked him. "Do you have something to say?" The man remained silent, and combed his silver hair back over his ears.

"Is everything alright?" Sam asked as he was worried that he himself had done something wrong.

Marwyn turned back to him and Sam noted that his eyes looked a bit sad, but he quickly smirked at Sam. "It's nothing, but I am sorry for Branton's actions, it's hard to find reputable sellswords as I'm sure you can imagine. But I do believe you owe me an explanation, I asked you to find us after you checked on your group and it's been nearly two weeks since then."

"My friend had died that night after I met you." Sam exclaimed and Marwyn took on a look of genuine surprise. "We just had him cremated a few days ago. And I didn't know where to find you." Sam said truthfully.

"You have my sympathies for your friend." Marwyn refilled his own goblet and asked. "What was it that killed him?" Sam then explained that it was simply his age and the tough voyage they had went through to get to Braavos. "Unfortunate." Marwyn muttered, and as Sam looked over his shoulder he saw the man sitting at the window peering back with his distinct violet eyes. "Was he a brother in black like you?"

Sam nodded and felt sad just talking about him. "He was. And he was wise and always knew what to say. I had him cremated, because I remembered reading that's how Targaryens did it."

Marwyn choked on his wine and sputtered out. "Whats this about Targaryens now?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot that you didn't know him. He was Aemon Targaryen, he had been the Night's Watch maester for many years." Sam explained and then saw a strange look in Marwyn's eyes.

"Now that is a name I haven't heard in many years." The archmaester sighed. "I had been a big fan of his, and always thought it was tragedy that the Citadel cast him away to the frozen wastes of the North. Nothing good ever came from that direction, only death and heartbreak. But tell me true, did he go peacefully and happy?"

Sam had thought about lying to Marwyn, but decided against it. "He ... he was agitated. He truly wanted to meet the Dragon King the city has been talking about, but I didn't know what to do."

"Ah yes ... I'm sure he did. They were the last two male Targaryens ... it's a shame he never got his last wish." Marwyn murmured into his cup and seemed to be in a trance. 

Suddenly the man at the window spoke up in a melodious voice and asked. "Did you keep his ashes?"

"I-I did." Sam stuttered in confusion and intimidation.

The sound of the man's voice broke Marwyn from his daze, and the archmaester called out. "Anything yet?"

"I was running through shallow and murky waters after a wolf. Then I tripped and fell into the waters and nearly drowned, but as I struggled for air I was saved by a scaled monster with a tail." The man called out with firmness in his voice.

Marwyn grimaced and took a moment before replying. "Was it a dragon?"

"No." Was the simply reply and then the man turned back to the window and resumed his silence.

 _What are they talking about?_ Sam wondered to himself.

Marwyn then resumed their conversion like nothing had just transpired. Sam then began telling him of the battle at the Fist of the First Men and how the wights and other dead things rising and attacking them. He continued on about making it back to Craster's Keep and of the Mutiny that happened. Marwyn hadn't interrupted once and simply sipped at his wine and would occasionally rub his chin in thought. Sam then told of how Stannis had saved them from the wildling army and of how he legitimized Jon Snow and released both from their vows. After he finished, Sam had drank nearly four cups of wine and Marwyn had nearly put down nine himself.

"So ... the rumors were true." Marwyn had finally broke his silence after Sam finished his tale. He looked to the man still sitting by the window and asked him if he heard everything, The man then grunted out something Sam couldn't understand and thought it sounded vaguely Valyrian. 

Sam could feel his face heating up from the sweet wine, and felt very happy as he asked Marwyn. "What did he say?"

"Nothing important Tarly." Marwyn replied in a slurred tone. He then stood from his chair and stretched wide. "I assume you still need that ride to Oldtown?"

"I do." Sam stated and then stood up, and his knees nearly buckled on him.  _How long was I here?_ Sam wondered and he looked past the man sitting at the window and saw the sun was setting in the sky.

Marwyn walked over to a satchel in the corner of the room and threw it onto his back. "Well I have a ship waiting for me in the Purple Harbor and you and your group are welcome to come along as I promised."

"Now?" Sam asked in confusion. Marwyn nodded and turned to the flagon of wine and drank directly from it. "I'll need to go tell Gilly." Sam exclaimed in a panic.

Marwyn seemed to ignore Sam and walked over to the sitting man with quill, parchment, and an ink well in hand. "If you work out the rest, write them down and give them to Tyrion, I instructed him to write a copy and send it to me in Oldtown." Marwyn stated and the man nodded his head and continued staring out at the fading sun in a trance. "Be safe Aegon." Marwyn said just above a whisper and ruffled the man's hair, before turning and walking past Sam. "That right there is the last male Targaryen. And he will the King of all of Westeros soon ... so rest assured that the south will listen to the pleas from the Wall." With that Marwyn left Sam alone in the room with Aegon.

Feeling his stomach knot up in his presence, Sam felt obliged to ask just one question of the man. "Are you really Aegon Targaryen?"

Aegon turned to Sam, and for a moment Sam believed that he was looking at the Father born human as the dimming sun perfectly outlined the man's body and his dark violet eyes shown through his shadow. "I am. Good luck at the Citadel, Samwell Tarly." He said in a sweet, but solid voice that left no room for doubt in his words.

"Thank you, your Grace." Sam replied meekly and bowed his head.

But before he left the room, he heard Aegon murmur under his breath. "I have one question. Could you indulge me?"

"Of course."

Aegon looked to be struggling with the words, but forced them out all the same. "Does a burning field filled with arrows sound familiar to you at all? It burned all around me and the grass turned as red as blood." Sam had no response for Aegon and shook his head. Aegon looked slightly disappointed, but smiled brightly at Sam all the same. "Thank you anyway."

Sam then left the room and closed the door behind him, just as a demure voice asked him. "Is the room cleared? I need to change the linens."

"Oh no, Ae-I mean the owner of the room is still in." Sam stated and cursed himself for almost calling the man Aegon. Sam looked down at the girl and noted her gray eyes and shaved brown hair and wondered to himself why a girl would shave her head.

"Thats fine." She replied bluntly and then nudged her way past Sam into the room as she dragged a linen cart on wheels behind her.

Sam felt like he knew her from somewhere, but knew it impossible. _You don't know anyone in Braavos._ He chided himself and then in a panic remembered that he need to go retrieve Gilly and the baby. So he ran as fast as his legs could take him down the granite stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things frequently.


	15. The Northern Snow

Jon:

 

"To me, Ghost." Jon called out as he walked along the outer palisade wall of Deepwood Motte. His dire wolf was nipping at a leafy plant growing through the stacked logs, but turned his nose to Jon and padded after him. The dire wolf walked beside Jon, and he dropped a hand on Ghost and patted his head.

As they circled around the wall, Jon spotted a woman digging in the dirt, who wore white woolen breeches that were tucked into her bleached white leather boots. Jon would have mistaken her for the lady of the keep if he didn't know any better. When Jon drew near to the blonde woman, she cocked her head to look at him while she continued to dig. "Has Lord Snow finally come to try to steal me away?" She asked and touched the dagger on her hip once, before her hand went back to the hard ground.

Jon watched her for a few moments before replying. "I'm just taking a walk is all." Ghost then padded to Val and started digging in the dirt for her.  _What are they doing now?_ Jon wondered. It had slightly annoyed him that some nights Ghost would simply disappear and when Jon would look for him, he would them together.  _But if they don't like they belong together._ Jon couldn't help but enjoy looking at her supple body. "What are you looking for?" Jon asked.

Val leaned back on her knees and allowed Ghost to dig for her. "Honey root." She exclaimed and rubbed her hands together to remove the dirt on them.

"How do you know it's there?"

Val looked slightly annoyed as a frown marred her comely face. "We free folk do know things, Jon Snow."

A pain hit Jon's heart and he said to himself.  _And you know nothing Jon Snow._ He then remembered his manners and retrieved a handkerchief from his belt. After taking it from him and wiping her hands off, she thanked him and tried to give it back. "Keep it. I'm sure you'll need it more than I do. Unless you plan to only collect one root." She took it and stuffed the cloth into her boot.

She said nothing and simply watched as Ghost dug in the ground. Jon took that as her way of telling him to leave so continued his stroll.  _Three of the King's men have already tried stealing her._ Jon mused and suppressed the desire to chuckle as they all seemed so confident before they tried, but all of them returned with either missing fingers and the last who returned came back with a missing ear.  _Well at least she didn't geld them like she's threatened me._  

As Jon went over the hill he saw the camp stretching outside the gates to the wooden fort, and knew that his own supporters were there as well. When Jon had made his intentions known that he would be leaving the Wall, and would be legitimized he had saw the look of anger in many of his former brothers faces. But many more of the wildlings looked very pleased with Jon's decision and had decided that they would march with him if he would have them. Stannis had agreed to their proposition if they swore not to steal unwilling women, they agreed begrudgingly and then some of the other Night's Watch brothers tried to volunteer as well, but Stannis scoffed at that and said that he only meant to release two black brothers from their vows and that those others were still needed.

The thought of Sam brought Jon some worry.  _I hope he's made it to Oldtown alright._ Jon prayed and continued walking towards the soldiers camp. He thought back on when they first arrived at Deepwood Motte and at the skeleton crew of Ironborn that defended it. All it took was two days of a siege before the Ironborn's woman leader parleyed and surrendered the castle to Stannis. He had them detained in a makeshift prison outside the log hall. Jon had also heard the woman leader was Theon's older sister; Asha Greyjoy. When he had first seen her dragged before Stannis, he knew that there could be no doubt who she was. Even as they had brought her before Stannis and forced her to her knees in her dirty and damp rags, she still held the same look of arrogance and cockiness Theon had, that always never failed to infuriated Jon.  _Stannis told me that when we find Theon he will be mine to deal with._ Jon truly didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. _  
_

"Inspecting your troops, Lord Stark?" Asked the confident and familiar voice of Ser Justin Massey.

Jon turned and spotted Justin strutting down the hill, wearing his usual smile. "Not exactly. I was just going for a stroll to clear my head."

Justin nodded and matched the pace Jon set. "Our King said we would be marching for Winterfell within the next week."

 _I know, I was at the same council you were._ Jon had wanted to say, but he knew Justin was only trying to make small talk. "It won't be such an easy battle as the one here." Jon informed him, and in his heart it felt strange that he would soon have to attack the very castle he loved and grew up in.  _It's for Arya ... you can't let her stay in that monster's hands._ Jon had to remind himself.

"Don't worry about me my Lord. I survived the Battle of the Blackwater, and I'm sure we won't find any wildfire at your Winterfell."

 _And you wanted it to be your Winterfell._ Jon still had trouble finding common ground with the Knight regardless of kind he had been, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted something from him. "No but those walls were made to last. I had always been told that five hundred could hold out against ten thousand."

That seemed to dampen Justin's mood and he sighed. "That's unfortunate for us if true. We have nearly twelve hundred from our side, and around the same from the other northern houses, twenty five hundred of the mountain clansmen, and you seem to have nearly eight hundred wildlings down there." Justin seemed to be disheartened at the odds, but quickly recovered his smile. "I hope you have some memory of the castle, that we will be able to use."

Jon didn't need Justin to remind him of what Stannis wanted. It had kept Jon up many nights, as he tried to remember any secrets that they could use to breach the castle. "I'm still working on it." Jon promised.

"Good." Then it was quiet between the men as they looked down on the army camped beneath the hill. "Have you had that wildling girl princess yet?" Justin said after awhile.

Jon gave Justin a sideways glance and after seeing the smirk blatantly resting on his face, Jon looked away and replied. "No."

Justin let loose a small chuckle. "If you're going to let that fair maid go to waste, then perhaps I'll have to take her myself. Unless you have any objections my Lord?"

"You heard her before we left the Wall." Jon said not trying to give away any of his true feelings away. "She warned every man that if they wished to steal her they better be ready to lose their ... cock." Jon struggled to say the word, but forced himself. "So you're more then welcome to try."

"Aye I remember, many of the lads thought it funny. But now Corliss Penny is Corliss one-eyed thanks to her."

Jon smirked and remembered that was the name. "Well she did warn him." Jon chuckled. "If you mean to try today, I'll warn you that Ghost is still with her and I can't promise he will do you no harm."

"Then I suppose I'll be waiting until that beast of yours returns to your side. I imagine she'll be hard enough to tame without your monster of a wolf bearing down on me too." Ser Justin respectfully nodded to Jon and excused himself, citing something about having his armor mended.

Jon was happy to have his solitude returned to him all the same, but felt a nagging feeling in his stomach at the thought of Justin stealing Val.  _It doesn't matter if Ghost is with her or not, no man will succeed unless she wants them to._ Jon could faintly see Val from this distance in her bright white cloak.  _But it won't be me._ Jon told himself as visions of Ygritte ran through his head and her fiery locks of hair. Stannis had scoffed at the idea of her following them, especially since he had not wed her yet, but Jon asked that he let her.  _Your favors are beginning to accrue with me Lord Stark._ Stannis had stated and his jaw tensed up in some form of anger, but Jon knew the for the while Stannis could not refuse any of his demands as he needed his Stark in Winterfell.

Jon still felt at odds with himself.  _I never wanted to be a lord, that was always my true brother's roles._ The other northern families had taken to Jon easily and Hugo Wull had claimed to all that Jon was a true Stark through and through. Alysane Mormont or as the men called her, the She-Bear; swore her loyalty to Jon immediately after she swore to Stannis and then she had thanked the Gods that a Stark still lived. Jon had remembered his father telling him that the Mormonts were eager to please and would always strive to impress them after Jorah Mormont had dishonored their family name. Black Donnel Flint had also taken quite a liking to Jon, as he had frequently met him in the training fields, and was always eager to listen and learn from him. Jon thought he must have been ten and four, although he looked to be much older his voice betrayed him, and Jon had once asked why they called him Black Donnel and he eagerly tore his boot off and showed him his frostbitten foot.  _He decided that I should be called the White Wolf immediately after._ Jon chuckled and then decided he had spent enough time dawdling and started back to the log hall.

He sometimes felt out of place when they weren't on the move, as most commanders were always checking supplies and readying their soldiers, but the wildlings under Jon were always prepared and ready to move. While walking through the gates he wondered if he should go to the training square to pass the time, but for some reason he felt drawn to the prison, Stannis had erected.

"How goes it Lord Stark." Called out the She-bear in her usual brusque manner as Jon neared.

"I've told you Jon is enough, Lady Mormont." Jon replied and bowed his head respectfully as he stopped before the rather chunky, but very powerful and strong woman.

She bellowed out in laughter and managed to wake several of the Ironborn who were still sleeping. "I'm no Lady, but how about if you agree to call me by my real name then I'll call you by yours?"

Jon could agree to that and nodded his approval. "If you wish, Alysane."

"See? You can do it, and trust me when I tell you, you won't hurt my feelings by forgetting those proper titles men always are so concerned with."

"I don't care for proper titles myself." Jon admitted and then realized that the North may be more accepting of the wildling ways then he thought.

A weak and dreary snicker rang out and an arrogant voice said. "Just bed her already, pretty boy ... and preferably here, I could use a bit of entertainment."

Alysane smirked when she heard the woman and turned to her. "It seems we've woke the Kraken." The She-bear then paused for dramatic effect and corrected herself. "Oh wait, you're called the Kraken's daughter aren't you."

Jon got a better look at the woman in the cell and recognized her as Asha Greyjoy, although when he saw her she looked a tad better than she did now. Her short black hair was matted and looked dirty as it clung to one side of her face. "And they call you the She-bear. Now that we have reiterated our names to each other, can you either entertain me or give me some food? If the pretty boy doesn't want you then I'm sure you could just take him."

"My name is Jon Sno-Stark." Jon corrected himself and saw a strange look in Asha's eyes as he did.

But just as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared and was replaced with a seemingly amused smirk. "Why I should be so honored my good Lord Stark. I would apologize for my current state, but I must admit I don't care what you think of me."

"Watch your tongue or I'll bloody that arrogant little mouth of yours." Alysane warned.

Asha snicked as loud as she could and remarked. "We both know in a fair fight, you wouldn't last against me."

She was obviously trying to flare up Alysane's temper, but the She-bear knew that and shook her head. "It seems this state has left her a bit confused." She turned to Jon and gave him a knowing wink and finished. "Mayhaps I'll visit that blonde prisoner whom they call the Maid and rape him if I get lonely." Asha's face instantly lost it's fire and she hung her head to the floor. Alysane grabbed Jon by the arm and pulled him far enough along so Asha couldn't hear. "That usually shuts her up I've found, that stupid ironborn man keeps demanding a trial by combat for both himself and her. So I assumed they were either sleeping together before this or were planning to if they ever escaped."

"They call a man ... the Maid?"

The She-bear explained. "He's a rather comely boy, not handsome, but pretty like a little girl. And just between you and me, I would never touch ironborn scum unless it was with my mace, but it is fun to shut her mouth up."

Jon was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with how frank she was being, but forced a smile. "I can imagine, I've heard some men talking about how your children were fathered by a bear."

"Oh that is no jest, Jon I can assure you it's true." As she said that, Jon suddenly felt like he was talking to a female Tormund Giantsbane with all the talks of animal mating being thrown around.

 "Where are they, back on Bear Island?" 

She looked a bit lonely as she nodded. "Aye, I left them with my youngest sister Lyanna. I miss them fiercely, but they know that their mother is a warrior and know that I will return to them." Suddenly a horn was blown and both Jon's and the She-bear's rose to the source, which was the log hall at the top of the palisade castle.

"That signals the King's council." Jon explained and gave his farewell to Alysane. After Jon exited the prison, he started up the hill and was met by Justin who was now out of his chainmail and was wearing a woolen coat. "Do you know what this is about?"

Ser Justin didn't look as if he was in any joyous mood as he had been earlier. Jon wondered if he already tried to steal Val and failed, until Justin responded in flat tone. "Word from the east. It seems Aegon Targaryen lives and has set his sight on the Seven Kingdoms ... and what's worse is the news that the Iron Bank is supporting him as the King."

"But Tycho Nestoris was sent from the Iron Bank to come to terms with Stannis, I saw him yesterday." Jon exclaimed and he couldn't fathom that the representative was lying, as he had traveled from all the way from the Wall to create terms with them.

"We'll soon find the truth I imagine." Ser Justin murmured and increased his pace up the hill, leaving Jon behind.

 _Aegon Targaryen._ Jon said the name over and over in his head, trying to remember the story behind him.  _If he's real this will mean serious problems for everyone ... and if he joins with his aunt and her dragons, they will roll over any and all opposition in their way._ Jon felt his stomach knot uncomfortably as he realized that if his fears all came true, Stannis wouldn't surrender and that meant death.  _And if the stories of Targaryen's wroth are true then I will be a target as well._ Suddenly Ser Richard Horpe tapped Jon on the shoulder and urged him onwards to the log hall where the King awaited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.


	16. A Stupid King

Betha:

 

It had infuriated Arya to no end, but Betha the servant couldn't do anything and that infuriated Arya even more. "And as the spring, came about, I kissed her body all around." King Aegon sung his bawdy song loudly and was almost screaming. His game of breaking her had started nearly two weeks past when Betha first started working at the luxurious inn, it was a favorite for rich Westerosi and they required pretty females who knew the common tongue of Westeros. The Kindly Man had decided that her time with Izembaro's mummer troupe had taught her how to act, and now she should apply her new skills to learn and study targets.

 _But how could I expect the King would be so stupid?!_ Arya screamed, as Betha tried to focus on her job and was scrubbing the colorful tiled floor.

"As the summer bloomed, so did my flower, and soon her flower would be mine." He loudly proclaimed and sang the bawdy tale unabashed, he was determined to get a rise from her. "As the fall fell, so did her will, and one day soon, she would be mine."

Betha's fist was squeezing the wet rag hard enough that she could see the white of her knuckles, but she continued to scrub the floor.  _I'm going to smash that lute._ Arya promised herself as Aegon finally shut up to catch his breathe, but continued to strum his instrument fiercely.  _Or push his stupid self from that window._

As she stared into his hauntingly dark eyes, she cursed herself as he caught her staring and his lips curved into a smirk, and that infuriated Arya further. "The winter snows may fall-"

"Shut up!" Betha demanded and tossed the soaked rag into her bucket which splashed water everywhere. "Why won't you stop?"

The victorious smirk on Aegon's face made him look even more stupid than before in her eyes. "Are you ready to answer my question?"

"No!" Betha turned her back to Aegon and grimaced as she saw her bucket of water had tipped over. "Stupid." She muttered under her breath and went to her cart to grab more rags to dry the floor.

Aegon thankfully set the lute down and replied in his smug fashion. "I hope you're not calling me stupid."

She wouldn't look at him again and kneeled down before her mess. "I'm not."

"It seems you don't like explicit songs either, maybe sadder songs are to your fancy." To Arya's dread, Aegon went for his lute again.

He was really starting to push her now, and it had started out so well, she thought being a servant would be an easy task. But ever since she had met Aegon and he had insisted on toying with her, everything got harder. "I don't like any of your songs." She stated in a calm voice.

She wouldn't look at him, but she heard him make a wounded noise and he then whined in an obviously false sad voice. "You wound me, my mysterious savior."

"Savior?" Betha asked.

She heard him chuckle and wished she had kept her mouth shut. "Aye you are my savior, for I would surely catch an illness if you weren't here to change my linens or clean my living area."

 _He's still playing with me._ Betha shook her head in overwhelming rage and did all she could not to scream at him. "Why are you so stupid?"

"So you were calling me stupid? That isn't very kind my savior, and I even sang you songs and tried to discern your favorite despite how difficult you've been."

Betha suppressed the urge to toss a wet rag at him and felt proud of her self control. "I told you that I don't like songs, because they're always lies and I hate liars."

"Been scorned by a liar before I presume?." Aegon asked, but Betha wouldn't give him an answer regardless of how long he waited. Unfortunately he didn't wait long. "Are you ready to tell me your name yet?"

"What does it matter? Just call me what you like."

Aegon sighed. "But thats no fun."

She spun around to look at him and his fake look of hurt on his face made her very angry. "I'm not here to entertain you! Now stop being stupid and let me finish!"

"As you wish my sweet savior." Aegon put his feet back on the floor and stretched wide. "Most would love if I showered them with the sort of attention I give you." He said in a yawn.

 _I'm no one's sweet anything._  Betha bit her lip and felt tired by his continued onslaught on her will. "Then why don't you indulge them and give me a reprieve?"

She could feel his footsteps vibrating off the floor as he drew near. "Because you have piqued my interest. Mayhaps if you gave me the answers I desire, I'll grow bored of you and gift you the silence you desire."

 _What does it really matter._ She told herself and gave up fighting him. "My name is Betha. Are you happy now?"

His smile was bright and radiant and made Betha's belly feel light. "Now that wasn't so hard was it? Now that we seem to be getting somewhere, will you tell me where you learned to speak the common tongue so well?"

"No. And I'm done talking to you now." She didn't care if she was rude or not anymore, because regardless of how she talked to him it just seemed to encourage him.

She then felt his hand drop on her head and ruffle her short brown hair. "Won't you tell me why you cut your hair so short? I hope you weren't trying to fool anybody into thinking you were a boy because you are too cute."

That was it for him, not only had he touched her, but he called her cute. Quick as a cat she swiped his hand away and saw the look of surprise on his face, but keeping up her advantage she kicked him in the knee and stumbled him. She felt Arya's needle slide down her sleeve and prepared to strike, but before she knew what had happened, she felt herself in the air and then she hit the ground with a thud. Betha blinked a few times in surprise and timedly looked up and saw Aegon still wearing his cocky grin. She realized that when she kicked his leg out, he had grabbed her leg and tossed her away.  _He's faster than he looks._

"Now that was the most fun I've had in awhile." Aegon exclaimed with a bright smile. "I didn't even notice you had a blade on you either. You are very interesting."

Betha quickly scooted up against the far wall and prepared for his further onslaught that never came, as he just leaned back on the table and smiled at her. "Well, what are you doing?" She asked as she prepared her thrust.  _Today I'm going to kill a King._

Aegon's face contorted in confusion. "Just catching my breath ... what are you doing?"

She growled in rage and wanted to stick him over and over. "How stupid are you? I just tried to kill you and-and you ask me what I'm doing?"

"You could try again if you like. I don't get enough practice anymore, so come on." He exclaimed and squatted himself low to the ground as if he was preparing for some great charge from her.

 _He's still playing with me!_ Arya screamed in her head. "I'm done." Betha said out loud and then calmly got back to her feet and returned Arya's needle into her sleeve. "This has been going on for nearly two weeks and I'm tired of it. Ask me whatever you please."

His smile grew wide and his eyes seemed to smile at her as well. "Perfect, so how about we start with the hair."

"My brother got a laugh at taking a knife to my hair while I slept. My father took the leather to him when he saw me in the morn." Betha lied as she lifted the bucket from the floor and to her cart.

"That was cruel." Aegon murmured quietly and shrugged his shoulders. "Now why were you so angered when I asked you before?"

Betha stared into his violet eyes and wouldn't back down so as to make her point. "I don't like to be touched and I don't like to be called cute."

Aegon's eyebrows rose and then furrowed as if he was in deep thought. "I'll remember that-"

"Why? Why are you so strange? Everyone in the city gossips about how kingly and clever you are despite never ever meeting you, and then you tell me you'll remember what I like or don't like." Betha couldn't understand what game he was playing anymore, it seemed like he was just toying with her earlier, but now she couldn't tell.

"I think thats a matter of perspective, I mean some would find it strange that a servant carries around a blade in her sleeve and tries to kill kings with it." His words rang truth and Betha didn't know a correct response to that. "So where did you learn the common tongue? You speak it fairly well despite your accent."

She paused to think of a lie and explained. "My father used to be a sailor before his leg got crushed, he was in Westeros many a time so he picked up the language. I hated to learn, but he believed it would come in use one day."

Aegon nodded his head and seemed to eat the lie easily and without any objections. "What happened to his leg?"

"He owed coin to the wrong folk."

He opened his mouth to respond, but they both turned when they heard a quick knock. "You asked me to accompany you to the Sealord's Palace, your Grace." Exclaimed an elegant and smooth voice that Betha recognized as Harlys Foros, the Supreme Captain of the Bright Banners as he called himself.

Aegon looked down at Betha and gave her a small bow. "Until next time, Betha." She ignored his attempt at flustering her and watched with slight disappointment as he strapped his valyrian steel sword to his hip, as she had hoped to get a private look at the blade while he was absent.

When he had finally left the room in his heavy and hooded brown cloak, she felt her own body loosen up and noted how hot her cheeks were, but guessed it was due to the struggle. Betha waited for a while longer to be sure that he wouldn't be coming back to run over to the drawered table. _Quickly Betha Quickly._ She told herself as she dug through stacks of fresh parchment and quills. As she dug through the drawers she realized that Aegon didn't keep anything of value in it, so she turned to Tyrion's work space and threw open the drawer.  _Now what's this?_ She thought as she found a parchment with what looked to be ramblings with half finished thoughts and words that stopped a few letters in.  _I visioned myself leading an army of archers on a hill over looking a field, and as I gave the order to fire the grass seemed to catch a bright red fire and I felt death all around me._ Betha didn't know what that meant, but went on.  _There was a small and scared mother who with all of her children froze and starved within the winter snows, despite all the fires they set._  Betha looked around to be sure no one was coming and looked further down the paper to some of the more scrambled thoughts. _I chased - I found? There was a bull of steel and rage- I was full of rage and pain. I found an end- beginning? That the bards would write about,_ The last thing written down looked to be in a different hand than the rest.  _A great and majestic horned beast rode triumphantly to save the wolf._

"Now what is this?" Asked a familiar voice.

Betha jumped in surprise and prepared the blade hidden in her sleeve, but saw only Tyrion staring back at her. "I was just cleaning up, M'lord." Betha had done her best to avoid directly looking at Tyrion, while she doubted he could ever discern who she was over the braavosi accent and hair. She knew that Tyrion might of remembered Arya Stark, but he wouldn't remember her face.

Tyrion's smirk was ugly and seemed to tear at the scars on his face. "It looked like you were reading to me."

She bowed her head and shook it fiercely. "I can't read M'lord, but I admit I was staring too long at the shapes. I found them pretty was all." She hoped he would believe her and she could excuse herself to cleaning the bedrooms to get out of the Imp's prying gaze.

"But I'm quite sure those weren't out before I left the night before. So tell me how they got out, unless you plan to tell me they climbed out by themselves?"

Betha thought about telling him Aegon looked at them, but knew that Tyrion would ask him about it later. "I just wanted to look at them, so I took them out. Please forgive me, M'lord." Betha then got to her knees and bowed her head to the floor, while Arya Stark fiercely wanted to spit in his face or kill the Lannister.

He didn't look anymore pleased by that answer. "Don't do that again." He warned and walked back to the center table and began sipping at his wine. Betha then started to gently put the papers away and heard Tyrion call to her. "While you're up, do you mind grabbing me 'Grand Strategies of the Conqueror'. It should be in there with the rest of my things ... it has a scroll imprint on the front."

Betha absentmindedly reached into the drawer and noticed two books, but managed to stop herself from grabbing the book he wanted.  _That one has a dragon on the cover._ She noticed and instead grabbed the other book titled 'Book of Lost Books' as it had the scroll. "I hope this is the right one." She exclaimed as she lifted the heavy tome to the table.  _He won't trick me._

She then noted the look of disappointment in his eyes as she handed him the book. "Thank you dear girl. Now if you don't you mind, leave me. I need some time to thoughts today."

"I still need to finish changing the linens and start a fire for his Grace's bath." Betha responded truthfully, as she knew if would reflect poorly on her performance, and there could be no mishaps.

Tyrion sighed and shook his head. "You can come back later to do that, he won't be back until night fall anyhow, so it would just go to waste."

Betha knew she couldn't argue, although she had hoped to search both of their rooms for more information as the Kindly Man had instructed her to. While Arya herself had hoped to find information regarding her home. _I'll just have to try another time._ Betha agreed and bowed away from the room. "As you wish, M'lord."

"Just so you know girl," Tyrion's voice cut through the room in an amused tone. "I wanted the other book." Tyrion shut the book closed and waited for Betha to look back at him. "But thank you anyways, I can see why Aegon enjoys you so."

 _Unfortunately for me._ Arya said to herself, and nodded. "His Grace is very charming and kind," _And stupid and annoying._ "Do you need anything else M'lord?"

Tyrion shook his head and smiled. "No."

In that moment Arya wondered if he truly was the monster everyone japed and told stories of. But Betha cared not for the stories or of what type of man, Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the stupid Dragon King, truly was. Only Arya cared. She shut the weirwood door behind her, but not before examining the smooth and white wood. In her head she imagined that it was once a great and towering tree just like the one Arya's father used to pray to and the one she used to play around.  _But this is no time to laze off._ She reminded herself and pushed her linen cart to the next room at the end of the second story of the inn. In truth when she was directed to work at an inn, Arya had thought it would be some run down and dreary place in the Ragman's Harbor, but the Bright Star inn was nothing like that at all, it sat right before the Purple Harbor and was a frequent patrol route for the city guards and it had nice cobbled roads that were always smoothed and cleaned weekly. The owner of the inn, Nabbo, was a jovial man of obscene girth and she wondered how he could possibly walk, but he had a friendly and charitable demeanor and made sure all the servants were fed before their shifts and was always adamant they be clean as well. He had claimed to be a keyholder and she didn't doubt him as he certainly seemed to be quite rich.

As she approached her next stop of the day, she waited to hear if Sharako was in. She soon knew he was, as the shrieks of what sounded like two woman rung out in a fit of giggles. "Great." She said under her breath and knocked on the door while calling out. "I'm here to clean." The sounds died out and she heard flesh slapping off of the floor and the door swung open.

"Ahh come on in." Sharako exclaimed as he stood before Betha, naked as the day he was born.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come back later?"

Sharako shook his head and stepped to the side to allow her passage. Betha tried not to look at his cock as she passed, but it was hard to miss as it stuck out like an arrow. "I hope you don't mind if I continue entertaining my guests?" He asked her as he half jogged and half waddled over to the two women kissing each other on the cherry wood table.

"Don't mind me, M'lord." She said under her breathe and immediately went to his bedchamber to change his linens. But she couldn't resist taking a peek at the two woman Sharako was leering over while he rubbed his cock with both hands. The first was a black haired and had the most striking blue eyes but had a small chest, while the other one had bright blonde hair and tanned skin, and Betha thought she could have been the same age as herself.

"Keep going, get yourselves ready for me." Sharako called out lustfully as he continued rubbing himself with his tiny hands. Betha knew that she didn't like the man ever since she met him, he wasn't cruel or mean, but his lust never seemed to subside and his hands were always grabbing.  _I have a girl back home in Lys just about your age._ He told her right before he tried to solicit her for two silver coins from Lys.

"Come ravage us like the Dragon you are." Called the blonde girl, and that seemed to really set Sharako off as he ripped her legs open and slammed himself in her, eliciting a cry from her lips.

 _Stupid girls._ Betha said in her head and shut the bedroom door to return to her work. It had been a game Sharako had been playing since Betha met him, he would claim to be Aegon Targaryen and would tell women that if they pleased him, he would make them his concubines when he returned. It hadn't been difficult as Aegon was a mystery as far as looks went to nearly everyone in the city, but it still made the girls stupid as Sharako had pale blue eyes and not the rich violet Aegon had. _If only he knew Aegon was his neighbor ... it might be funnier if they knew as well._ As she pulled the covers from his bed she smelt a strong and pungent smell along with many different stains on his linen. Careful not to touch it, she removed them and replaced them with fresh and white linen.

A loud roar of either pain or pleasure rung out. "Feel my heat!" It was Sharako's voice, and then Betha's belly turned for the worst.

She took her time cleaning the room so she wouldn't have to see the aftermath of Sharako's supposed lovemaking, but eventually she knew she had to go back out. "Is there anything else you need?" She asked as she saw Sharako laying flat backed on the table in between both girls while they gently tickled his hairy chest.

Sharako craned his neck to look at her and smiled. "Ahh yes, get me some wine ... sour would be preferable and make it quick." He then reached over to the blonde girl and pinched her tiny pink nipple.

Betha quickly took her leave from the room and heard a feminine voice over her shoulder. "That one is cute your Grace, have you had her as well?"

Betha didn't wait to hear his response and bounded down the granite stairs and turned to the kitchens. She had noted a seeming uptake in guards recently and wondered why, but couldn't pay it any heed. _Fast and efficient._ Nabbo's slow voice reminded her. As she arrived at the kitchen she gave a polite nod to the chef, who was a man from Qarth that spoke no Braavosi or Westerosi. She gestured over to the row of open casks and the pale skinned cook nodded his understanding and returned to his meal of spiced apples. After Betha exited the kitchen with a full flagon of dornish sour, she thought about taking a sip for herself to help her through the day, but thought better on it and returned to Sharako's room.

"I have the wine, M'lord." She called through the door and heard more giggles from the girls, and failed to not roll her eyes as Sharako called out.

"Well come in and quickly."

She pushed her way through the black wood door and jumped as she saw Sharako standing before her with his hands on his hips, while the two girl's played with each other in the background. "Where do you want it-"

Sharako grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the two women kissing. "Tell me if you've ever laid with a man?"

Betha could see the look of anticipation in all of their eyes and it had angered her. "No, I haven't. Know would you like me to pour-"

The girls were giddy with laughter and Sharako's grin couldn't have grown any larger. "Have you ever wanted to? Because I can assure you other men want to with you," He gently touched her cheek and caressed it with the back of his hand. "The hair is an interesting choice, but it doesn't hide your features from my eyes."

She was careful in not being too rough as she pushed his hand away, even though she wanted to slap him and had wanted to scrub herself after he touched her. "No I don't." She replied to his earlier question and took the initiative by filling three cups with the dornish vintage. 

"Are you sure? I can assure you a Dragon's taste cannot be finer and you are most fair ... you do know I'm a King don't you? Just imagine, I could take you away from here and you could be my concubine along with them." He said in a husky voice and pointed at the two other girls as they were still dueling with their tongues.

 _His voice doesn't even match what Aegon's is. Everyone gossips that his voice is sweeter than honey, but none of those girls even question Sharako's voice._ Arya almost couldn't understand how stupid those girls were, before remembering a girl named Jeyne Poole was similar. _She believed every lie and story told to her and ate them up like they were sweets._ _She was stupid just like they are._ "Not interested." Arya said, not caring to sweeten her words for this man, who she has gotten tired of fending off.

"She's just a silly little girl who doesn't know what she's missing." Exclaimed the ink haired girl. "Come back to us, and we'll show you our appreciation, your Grace." The girl opened her legs and showed her cunt to Sharako and Betha both. It looked quite swollen and red to Betha and it looked very hairy. "Now come back to your lair ... my Dragon."

Sharako didn't show hurt over Betha's refusal and grabbed his cock with both hands. "I don't know if that home is big enough to accommodate me," He started to harden and stiffen in his hands as he approached the girl. "But I suppose it will have to fit." He then threw her ankles over his shoulders and pulled her to him.

Betha didn't want to watch anymore and returned to her linen cart just as the girl cried out. "So big, my King!"

 _Stupid girls!_ Arya screamed in her head as she roughly dragged the cart behind her.  _They would have been toys in his hands._ But Betha had already noted and informed the Kindly Man of Aegon's abstinence to wine and whores.  _Mayhaps you should test his resolve, you have a pretty enough face._ The Kindly Man told her, but she noted that he didn't ask her to, so she wouldn't.  _He's too stupid to understand what that is anyway I bet._  She couldn't help but feel a smirk grow on her face as she passed the weirwood door again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> If you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.
> 
> Also I don't know if any of you could help me, but for some reason when I post updates they aren't registering on the site as an update. So I don't know if there is any solution, but I thought I should at least throw that out there in case anyone else is having that problem or if it is just me.


	17. The Vale Convenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as it pained me to do to this chapter I forced myself through it. And just a forewarning, I've now raised the rating from Mature to Explicit so be aware.

Alayne:

 

"Sweetrobin, you must eat your greens, that is how you grow big and strong-er." Alayne corrected herself mid-breathe as she tried to encourage Robert to eat his vegetables. Normally she would allow him to do as he wished in this regard, but if not for the fact they had so many guests from around the Vale and that they were all watching their Little Lord closely.  _We must make sure we portray him in his best light._ Petyr had instructed her the night before the welcoming banquet, and his hands had began wandering her body again to her dismay.

"Aye, I wouldn't be as big as I am today If I didn't eat my vegetables, Lord Robin." Harry added from the other side of Alayne.

Sweetrobin looked annoyed every time Harrold opened his mouth, and Alayne guessed it was because he had overheard of her betrothal to him. "You can't call me Lord Robin, I only want Alayne to." He demanded and then pushed his plate of fresh greens away. "And I don't want to eat them, they're stinky and gross. Take them away." The plate rattled as he pushed it away, and Alayne at that moment was thankful he wasn't stronger or it surely would have fallen off the table and smashed.

It was a very uncomfortable banquet, Alayne could almost feel the tension in the air.  _The Lords Declarant have come to an uneasy truce with Petyr at the moment, thanks to the letter._ Alayne knew many of the Lords were scared while others were excited or angry.  _It seems Aegon Targaryen is still alive ... and it seems I greatly underestimated a pawn._ She remembered Petyr mutter in response when she asked him what it said. After he read it over and over nearly one hundred times, Petyr tossed it into the brazier and told her that it was nothing to worry herself over.  _But everyone is worrying themselves over it, even Harry._ Her betrothed was absentmindedly picking at his plate of mashed yellow turnips, and would steal glances at both Alayne and the assembled lords lined up at their tables in front of them. "Is everything alright?" Alayne asked as she gently touched Harry's hand.

"Everything is fine, my Love." He promised her and then ate a spoonful of his turnips to persuade her.

Sweetrobin made his displeasure known and shook Alayne's arm. "I want some of your soup." Alayne knew that he really didn't want to try her pumpkin soup, he just wanted to regain her attention.

"My Sweetrobin can have whatever he wants." She told him and then pushed the small bowl in front of him. She filled the spoon with the orange liquid and blew on it to cool it for Robert.

When his lips closed around the spoon, she heard several groans and sounds of anger from the Lord's watching.  _Let them watch, he's their Lord all the same._ "Does it please my strong Lord?" That seemed to please him and he eagerly nodded his head. Alayne knew that he was starting to recover and was getting stronger every day, but yet Petyr still promised her that he would pass any day now.But Alayne still was unsure if she wanted that. Harry was always kind and courteous to her, even if he could be forceful, she knew he wasn't bad.

Suddenly Lord Benedar Belmore broke the uncomfortable silence between the visiting Lords. "We have all waited long enough. It is time we discuss this letter." His squire ran to him with letter in hand and passed it to the fat Lord, who in turn slammed it on the table. Just as the first stone could start an avalanche, Benedar's word started an uproar amongst all in attendance.

Strangely enough, Alayne noted that Yohn Royce and Horton Redfort were silent and attempted to regain the peace. "My Lords, please keep calm." Petyr exclaimed. 

Alayne remembered her Sweetrobin and held his hand and smiled at him reassuringly. "It's fine my strong Sweetrobin." She told him and heard Harry adding his voice to the fray behind her. She tried to calm Harry for Robert's sake, but her touch couldn't pacify him this time.

"We stayed out of the War of Five Kings and look what it resulted in!" Ser Symond Templeton roared as his long black beard flapped about.

Lyonel Corbray shot back. "And what would you have us do? Go begging back to the Targaryens? A Dragon's wrath is not one endured for long or forgotten, and we took our sides all those years ago."

It was Harry's voice that responded to Alayne's dismay. "And we've been offered pardons and forgiveness. Why should we stay to the Lannisters, who readily break customs and traditions thousands of years old? Cersei Lannister herself is on trial for killing the last High Septon as you should well know."

That seemed to set the Lords off further and Sweetrobin had his hands cupped over his ears. Petyr threw Alayne a knowing look that told her.  _Shut Harry up._ Alayne pulled at his arm harder and forced him to give her his attention. "This isn't the place, my Love." Alayne reminded him, as Petyr and Harry had agreed before arriving that they would keep their peace until hearing where the other Lords stood.

"You bring up customs and traditions? What about the Targaryens? They have a long and disgusting history of incest." Nestor Royce reminded the assembled Lords.

Lord Eyan Egen was the next voice. "You say that now, but I remember learning of a certain Royce girl who married a Targaryen Prince in history."

Alayne knew that it was beginning to turn into a fight not of who to support, but of blaming each other. "We are still untouched in the ways of war, and which ever side we choose will undoubtedly win. No army can match ours." Lucas Corbray added and was met with the agreement of all Lords in attendance.

"But why should we risk our sons in this war? We were fortunate to spare their lives in this last war, so why throw their lives away on this one?" Lady Waynwood's input was a reasonable stance to take Alayne felt.

"Perhaps we should ask for Lord Robert's opinion?" Said Ser Lyn Corbray just as they had planned.

And just as Petyr had hoped, all the Lords grew quiet and gave their due attention to their Lord. "I think that would be appropriate." Said Lord Yohn to the surprise of everyone, as he was the most vocal supporter of Sweetrobin stepping aside for Harrold due to his health.

Alayne reassuringly squeezed his hand and urged him on. "What do you think my Sweetrobin?"

His face grew pale then and Alayne immediately regretted it. "I-I ... I d-d-don't know-." Stuttered out the boy Lord, and Alayne heard the distinct sound of liquid dripping onto the floor and she thanked the Gods that the table had a long cloth covering it.

Petyr quick as ever took control of the situation as he planned to. "I think our good Lord Robert will need some time to think on this. We should excuse him for now I believe."

Alayne took her cue to remove Robert from the hall. "Come my Sweetrobin, I'll go read you a story." Alayne promised and ushered him from the hall as the Lords continued to argue, scream, and threaten each other. 

Foot steps rang out from behind her and she saw Myranda doing her best to catch up. "Is everything alright with our Sweetrobin?" She asked, as a smile grew on Robert's face.

"He just started feeling ill was all." Alayne brushed back a strand of his brown hair. "But nothing like that could keep our strong Lord down for long." Both girls led Robert to his apartment in the Gate of Moon. Alayne called for the servants to draw a bath for their Lord.

When they had ushered Robert to his bath, it gave both Myranda and Alayne time to talk freely amongst themselves. "I was surprised at my Nuncle." Myranda started.

"Why was that?" Alayne asked as her and Myranda sat down at the padded window seat.

Myranda was playing with a strand of her hair and responded. "Well he had been so aggressive and hostile to everything involving Sweetrobin. But even he was willing to heed Robert's decision."

Alayne saw an opportunity she had to take. "Did you read the letter for your father?"

She nodded and looked around for listeners before whispering. "I did." Myranda then flashed Alayne a bright smile.

"Tell me." Alayne begged with her own smile and she knew Myranda was feeling playful.

"I don't know," She murmured and looked out at the bright starry sky. "If you don't know, then I don't know if I should tell you." Myranda avoided looking at Alayne as she knew it would crack her neutral facade. "Have you ever met Maric Storm before?"

 _Maric Storm ... he knew who I was. And yet he left me here all the same._ Alayne remembered him very well, but had mixed feelings on the Bastard of Stonehelm. "I did when he visited Father at the Eyrie."

Myranda seemed to be hanging on her every word and smirked. "He's Aegon Targaryen." She then broke into a fit giggles.

Alayne then knew Myranda was playing a jape on her. "Come on tell me what the letter said."

"It said that Aegon means to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms and that all who side with him will be forgiven and absolved of any past crimes against him. But I think the most striking news was that he was Maric, I met him years ago before I married and he was the most handsome man by far. I was still young and naive then, but I begged my father for a fortnight to broker a marriage in our name between myself and him."

Alayne still couldn't believe that Myranda was telling her the truth and realized that it made sense why Petyr read the letter over so many times. "But I don't understand how that could be possible, he had black hair and ..."  _He had violet eyes as well._ Alayne remembered hearing stories of the striking eyes of Targaryens.

"And the most beautiful eyes I've seen on a man. He sung 'Off to Gulltown'  to the court, and to this day I still think of his voice and smile-" Myranda looked around the room again and whispered just above silence. "When I'm alone in bed." She giggled again and Alayne felt a blush erupt due to Myranda's boldness.

"And where does your father stand on it?"

Myranda looked a tad disappointed, but answered all the same. "He's cautious, and he's waiting to see what the majority decides to do." Myranda's eyes changed back to their lustful haze and she picked up where she had left off. "But he wouldn't take any of hints I gave him, his blush was more than obvious to me though. I can't believe I could have had a Prince. I had planned to visit his chambers the night before him and his brother Balon left, but my father had a septa stand guard outside my door." Myranda sighed and picked at the wooden red window sill. "I bet my father is kicking himself now."

"He was rather handsome." Alayne said to appease Myranda's desire for gossip. "But how do they know he is telling the truth?"

The buxom girl shrugged her shoulders. "They're taking him at his word it seems. If he is lying then he's a master, as even the Iron Bank of Braavos has supported him."

 _You must make sure Harry doesn't make any rash decisions, do what you must to make him remain neutral. We can't afford to have him go chasing after glory and ruining your chance at reclaiming your home._ Alayne remembered Petyr very well, but wondered how she was supposed to control him in that way. While she knew she could control her Sweetrobin, Harry was different as he was fully grown and a Knight. "What would you do in your father's position?"

Myranda's plump lips pursed in thought. "I suppose I would wait to see him in person for myself. Many houses could either flock to him or they could shun him, and I would be sure I was on the winning side."

"I would do the same." Alayne responded truthfully.  _Petyr wasn't planning for this ... I don't know what he was planning, but it was obvious that this shook him._ Alayne could still see the look of fear in his eyes and she enjoyed it to a degree. "And if the rumors of dragons returning are true then it will make their choice easier."

"It will indeed." Myranda agreed and hung over head back with closed eyes. "When the bards hear about this, there will be no shortage of new songs. A handsome Prince returning to his homeland to reclaim what was stolen from him." She chuckled along with a yawn. "Mayhaps I should throw myself in the running to be his Queen." Myranda japed and rested her head against the cool wall.

After a few minutes of silence where Alayne was thankfully left to her thoughts, Harry strode into the room red in the face. He looked back in forth between his betrothed and the sleeping Myranda and asked. "Care to take a stroll, my Love?"

Alayne nodded and gently set Myranda's head on the padded seat and followed Harry out of the room.  _I'm sure Robert will wake her up when he returns._ As she followed him to the walls, she could tell he was tense. "Are you alright?" She asked in a soothing voice she frequently used on Robert when he wouldn't sleep.

He then knew she could see his true feelings in his stance, so he rolled his shoulders and tried to relax himself. "I just needed some air, and to see you."

 _Charmer._ Alayne held his hand and followed him to their usual spot beneath the square tower facing the south. "Would you like to talk?" She asked him, hoping that he would supply her with the info she desperately wanted to know.

"I don't want to burden you." He murmured under his breath, and leaned out over the stone wall as a cold breeze blew across the mountains.

Alayne snuggled against his arm and informed him. "You're never a burden to me. While we may not be wed yet, I want you to know that you can come to me with any problems you have. I would like to think I could do the same with you."

He smiled down at her and she saw those dimples she despised and loved. "How do you expect me to keep my hands off of you when you say things like that." He leaned over and gently kissed her lips. "I love you so much."

She nuzzled her nose against his cheek and was surprised to find how warm it was. "I feel the same." Alayne then looked him in his deep blue eyes. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"Those Lords are fat and lazy. They've forgotten all their sense of honor and dignity, they would have us simply wait out another war. And my cousin Anya, isn't helping with all her talks of losing precious sons." Harry's tone was hard and angry and it was rare for him to lose his temper, at least in front of Alayne.

"But maybe she has a point. Why risk all those lives just for another King, this one unknown?" She knew that Harry was eager to prove himself in the battlefield, and she knew that he would align himself to whatever cause he believed righteous. And some small part of Sansa wanted to agree with Harry and join in a war against the Lannisters.

Harry struggled with that truth and Alayne wondered if she boxed him in a corner. "I'd met Maric once, he was a quiet, but clever man. And I'd sooner support him as King then some child born of incest." Harry argued and Alayne knew she wouldn't be able to convince him while he was still this riled up.

"Then maybe you'll get your desire, my Love. But you should show the good Lords and Ladies their due respect and at least listen to their ideas."

Alayne felt Harry's strong arms wrap around her in an embrace, and she had to admit she felt safe with him. "You're right. I need to be more patient with them." Harry nuzzled his head into Alayne's hair and breathed in her scent. "Are you sure we need to wait until our wedding night?"

She couldn't help but smirk at how thick his voice was with desire and longing. "You can wait." Then she craned her neck to kiss him. After the small peck, she truly felt light and her tummy was in knots again. "I should go back, Sweetrobin will cry if I'm not their to read to him."

Harry sighed and spun Alayne around gracefully and held her to his strong and thick chest. "I hate having to share you with him." He suddenly grabbed her under the knees and lifted her bridal style. "I think I should just steal you away and bring you across the narrow sea."

Alayne giggled at his romantic attempts and jested. "I would fight you the entire way."

His eyes lit up and he smirked. "Oh really? My love would mean to fight me like a wildling would she? I think you overvalue your own strength. If I was a lesser man that didn't love you as I do, I could simply take you whichever way I pleased."

 _And I would have half a thought to let you._ "Soon, I promise we'll be together in all ways, my Love." She gave him one last kiss on his nose and climbed down from his arms. "And try to listen to my father more, he knows what he is doing."

Harry leaned onto the stone wall and nodded his understanding. "I'll try, my Love."

As fast as she could Alayne walked back to Robert's apartment, but on her way she saw Yohn Royce and Petyr walking and talking together. "Father, Lord Royce." She called out to them and curtsied.

"Ahh, there is my sweet daughter. I trust you saw Robert back to his apartment?" Petyr asked and Alayne nodded. "Good, hopefully he'll feel better on the morrow, and the Lords can make their points calmly to him."

Yohn seized Alayne's hand harder than she thought he meant to and kissed it. "I must excuse myself, but you do look radiant tonight, Harry is a very lucky lad to have you." He then turned and started to walk away before stopping mid-stride and finishing with. "Do what you will with that knowledge, Lord Baelish."

Alayne didn't know what he meant, but Petyr wordlessly told her to follow him. As they arrived at Petyr's living area he urged her to sit. "The Lords are even more riled up then I thought they would be. Some want to stay neutral, others want to side with the Lannisters, and some want to support Aegon." Petyr filled two goblets with a red vintage and gave Alayne one. "But do you know what they all have in common?"

"They all want to be on the winning side." She answered and then took a small sip of the sweet liquid.

Petyr's smile grew wide and he nodded. "Correct, but I suppose who doesn't want to be on the winning side? Where were you coming from?"

Alayne knew that Petyr wouldn't like her answer, but she knew he would dislike her lying even more. "Harry wanted to talk to me."

He turned his back to her and stared at the burning wood in his fireplace, Alayne thought it was to hide his displeasure. "And I hope all you did was talk. Harry doesn't seem like the type of boy who likes the same taste more than once."

 _And you would know._ "It won't go further than kissing I swear." Alayne took another sip of her wine. "Do you care to tell me about what's happening or do I need to listen to rumors?"

Petyr's shoulders seemed to droop and she heard him chuckle. "It would give you some useful practice, but I'll spare you this time." He turned and sat in the chair beside her own. Petyr started after he reached down and grasped her hand. "It seems Aegon Targaryen has sent letters to every Lord and Lady in Westeros and has offered pardons to everyone that joins him."

"And what do you need me to do?"

Petyr smiled at Alayne's understanding and informed her. "I need you to keep Harry from making any rash decisions and I need you to keep doing what you're doing for your Sweetrobin. Can you do that for me my sweet daughter?" His tone was smooth, but Alayne knew that it was anything but innocence.

"Is there any news from the North?"

"The Northern mountain clans have aligned themselves to Stannis, but I assure you that they won't be enough to steal Winterfell from you." He promised her once again.

Alayne didn't respond and simply stared at the burning fire.  _He always tells me that regardless of what has happened. He's either confident his plan will beat all or he's lying to me, probably both._ She then felt Petyr squeeze her hand, so she looked to him. "What did Royce have to tell you?"

Petyr's pale green eyes glimmered from the fire and his smile widened. "It seems the most ardent of the Lords Declarant is finally coming around to our way of seeing things." Petyr's fingers laced between Alayne's own then. "It seems our supposed Dragon King has placed his trust in the wrong camp. Lord Royce informed me of a personal letter sent to him, that detailed his plans of attacking Dragonstone and Driftmark."

"Why would he tell you all this?" She asked as she knew that Yohn had made his distrust and hatred of Petyr quite well known in the past.

Petyr touched a lock of her black hair and rubbed it between his fingers. "He and his family were some of the most loud supporters of King Robert's rebellion. And he fears for their safety if the Targaryens come back into power. I would guess that he sees the Lannisters as the lesser of two evils."

 _This doesn't sound right at all._ Alayne tried to ignore Petyr's caressing and responded back. "Don't you think he could be lying?"

"Oh that possibility is great, but it matters not. For safety I will warn King's Landing of what I've learned and even if time proves it false what does it matter." Petyr was edging even closer to her at that point and she knew how this would end.

"I should return to Sweetrobin, I promised him a story and he'll cry and scream if I'm not there." She quickly stood up and tried to escape the room.

To her dismay Petyr called out and stopped her. "Before you go, can you give me a kiss my darling daughter?" She turned and stood still as he approached her like an animal stalking it's meal.

"Of course." She bent her neck out to give him a peck on the cheek, but he turned and her lips met his.

He kissed back against her fiercely and whispered. "You are so naughty, tempting your father like this." He grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her against him harder. "How ever could I resist you when you throw yourself at me like this?"

 _Stay strong Alayne._ Sansa told herself, and allowed Petyr's tongue to pass her lips and into her mouth. It was quick and seemed to travel everywhere from the roof of her mouth to the back of her bottom teeth.  _Don't resist._ She warned herself and nearly wanted to cry as his tongue batted at hers and she could taste what he had eaten for dinner.

In a huff, he grabbed her buttocks and squeezed through her dress. "If Harry can kiss you then I think it's only fair I do this." His fingers traced the line between her cheeks over and over. "While I can't have your maidenhead, that doesn't mean I can't have you in other ways." Thankfully he broke the kiss and stared hungrily into her eyes. "Would you like that my sweet daughter?"

 _No._ "If that is what you want ... father." Sansa had wanted to cry, but Alayne wouldn't allow her resolve to be broken.

His hands slowly went to his breeches as his mouth spouted. "This is an important skill all woman should learn to please their husbands. And we need Harry to be happy with you don't we?" And then his black pants were around his ankles and his penis was in the open. His hand was on her head and was pushing her to her knees. "Now do as I instruct my daughter, and I promise he will never be able to resist you."

She was close enough to touch it and it smelled foul, it looked to be the length of her index finger and slightly thicker than her nose.  _He already loves me._ She daintily reached out and touched it with her hand and felt it growing bigger and stiffer.

"Now put it in your mouth, my dear." He muttered out in a lustful haze and started pulling her head closer to his pelvis.

Sansa had wanted to fight against him, and Alayne had wanted to bite it off, but neither happened as she closed her eyes to stem the tears. _You are a Stark of Winterfell ... you will endure and you will survive._  She heard a voice in her head tell her. Before she took it in her mouth, she looked deep into Petyr's evil green eyes and heard the voice promise her.  _And winter is coming for him soon._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all made it through that. Because I felt gross writing it, but I can't sugar coat it or I wouldn't be doing my story justice. If you care to, tell me what a disgusting person Petyr is lol.
> 
> Next chapter will be the last Braavos one for the near future and it will be with the Hand of the Dragon King Tyrion Lannister.


	18. The First Strike

Tyrion:

 

The horns were in full use and their sound was cutting through the air, just a tad above the cries of adulation from the freemen and women of Braavos. Tyrion knew that Aegon cut quite an inspiring sight riding in front of the procession line. He rode on a fierce and dark black steed that was the last parting gift from the Sealord Ferrego Antaryon. He was gracious enough to gift Tyrion with a litter box made in rare wood from the Summer Isles and cornered with solid red gold. And on top of the four corners were statues of yellow gold lions that each had an eye of emerald and onyx to match his own.

"They act as if he was their King." Murmured Harlys Foros the Myrish captain of the Bright Banners, as he rode beside Tyrion's decadent litter that was held up by four servants.

Tyrion chuckled and agreed to that, but felt happy for Aegon as he clearly enjoyed the cheers from the crowd. "I understand many signed up to join your company." Tyrion had seen many young men lined up the day before.

Harlys dodged a white rose thrown his way from the crowd. "Aye, many of them came with their own weapons as well."

"The florists of the city must have made quite the profit." Tyrion exclaimed in humor as he looked ahead and saw many young girls and older women tossing flowers of all colors and types towards Aegon. "He'll be in their dreams for awhile I'll wager."

"Aye, he will." Harlys chuckled and swatted away a daisy thrown his way. Tyrion liked Harlys much more than Branton, Harlys seemed to cut from a different cloth and actually seemed to enjoy people. He certainly didn't make for an intimidating figure like Branton did, as Harlys had light ginger hair and was shaven nearly bald and almost always wore a smile.  _It makes recruiting easier._ He had explained to Aegon when he had asked him why he always smiled.

Tyrion looked ahead and saw the gleam off of Aegon's new armor, made specifically for him as a gift from Tormo Fregar. It was a coat of golden scale mail with inlays of white over boiled leather dyed black, and on his back was clasped a dark red hooded cloak with the Targaryen dragon centered. His hair was combed back over his ears and on his head he wore a thin band of silver with alternating rubies and black sapphires. As he would wave to the crowd, his lips turned to a smile and in response the crowd would cheer louder and throw more flowers.  _He really looks a king now. When the small folk see him there will be no doubt in their hearts and minds that he is a hero come from the stories to save them. While people threw shit at Joffrey, they'll throw love at Aegon when he fills their bellies with food and hope._ _  
_

"Thank you all for your generosity to me. Braavos will always be a city near and dear to my heart." Tyrion had just barely made out Aegon saying over the roar of the crowd.

A woman then tried to charge out after him, but was quickly pushed back by the city guardsmen who followed alongside the train towards the Purple Harbor, which the Sealord was kind enough to let them use as their send off point. "Are your men ready?" Asked Tyrion.

Harlys nodded. "They are loaded up on the ships and the rest of my men should be doing the same in the Swamplands to the south of us."

"Good." Tyrion then let his head loll back against the head cushion. Thinking back on this morning he still could taste the immense feast that was arranged for them at the Sealord's Palace.  _I never was treated with such respect as the Braavosi gave me. Maybe more of our Westerosi brethren could take note on manners._ Many had stared too long at his scars, but none offered anything but good words and well wishes for their success in Westeros. Then as they prepared to leave on their litter, all the patricians had lined their daughters up for Aegon to bless their them with a kiss from a King.  _Their faces couldn't have been any redder when his lips touched their cheeks._ Tyrion sometimes wished he had the same effect Aegon or his brother Jaime had on woman, but knew that those who look like that are always expected to be dangerous and are always watched. Where as people of Tyrion's humble stance were always looked down upon and not taken seriously, and Tyrion was always certain to use that to his advantage.

"It was fortunate they lent the ships to use for the crossing, it would have cost you a fortune in coin otherwise." Harlys added, while trying to keep the conversation alive. "If you could even find the captains willing to do it."

 _Well we have Lornel to thank for that._ Tyrion was surprised in the end that the Sealord's eldest truly didn't desire anything of them, and even encouraged his father to give their troops passage.  _Aegon was right in the end, and he truly did only want to impress us ... or maybe his father._ "It was." Tyrion said unenthusiastically, as he desperately wanted relief for his now throbbing headache brought on by the crowd and thankfully he could see the Harbor getting close.

As they passed by the Bright Star inn, Tyrion knew that he would miss it in a way. _Inns in Westeros are never so luxurious or clean,_  a _nd the servants knew how to keep their mouths shut._ Tyrion mused on the thought of the servant girl Betha watching them from the inn. He remembered how she blushed when Aegon offered her a kiss farewell and wondered if all of her blood went to her head in that moment.  _She was an entertaining distraction for him from his nightmares and visions._ Tyrion sighed internally as his thoughts drifted back to Aegon's dreams as they frequently did. Ever since Aegon drank the shade of the evening, he was obsessed with figuring out what he saw and what it all meant. For many a nights after he drank it, he wouldn't sleep and would sit in his bed all night staring up at the ceiling.

"I should head towards my ship." Harlys added. "Have a good voyage, M'lord." He then turned his red stallion around, and kicked it into a faster pace towards the Ragman's Harbor.

To Tyrion delight the crowd was starting thin out around the front of the pack, and that mean they were almost on the ship. "Finally going home." Tyrion said under his breathe to no one in particular. Finally they stopped right before the wooden bridge to the magnificent carrack, Aurane Waters named Maelstrom after one he sailed through with it. But unlike it's usually status as a travel boat, it had now been outfitted with two mighty ballistas, one on the front and the other on the back. Aegon was the first off of his steed and up the wooden bridge, while a crewman took the horse up the rickety bridge himself. As his litter stopped in front of the bridge, Tyrion knew he would have to exit. The servants carefully set the luxurious litter down and allowed Tyrion to walk up the ship himself.

It took nearly an hour longer for the crewmen to pack their belongings back on the ship, but when they finished they lined up on the deck of the ship expectantly waiting. Tyrion found his place beside Aegon and the ships Captain. While looking down at the sailors, Tyrion understood how Marwyn assured him of their loyalty. _All_ _of them are illiterate, and have been paid handsomely by us for many years to operate this ship. I only picked those who had families that they had to return to, so in case any decided to betray them they still those they loved to threaten._

"Set sail for home." Was Aegon's command and on his word, the men roared in cheers and went to their workstations in haste. Aegon nodded to Tyrion and he followed him back to his cabin. After they had arrived in the familiar room, Tyrion felt tired just thinking about how much they had accomplished since last being here. "Do you think they've all received our letters?"

"They should've." Tyrion responded and looked out the single window as they set sail from the dock. "I'm going to miss this city."

Aegon was fiddling with his cloak and managed to undo one of the straps. "I'm sure you will. Tell me, how many times did you visit the Black Pearl before we left?"

 _More times then you need to know._ Tyrion answered in his head, but told Aegon. "A few." Tyrion had enjoyed her in many different ways, and she had proven the rumors of the Black Pearls of Braavos many times over to him. It had helped him escape from the memory of his father and of Shae, for a time at least. "Would you like to talk about the visions or do you want to wait til later?" Tyrion was advised by Marwyn to make Aegon discuss them out loud, as it helped gain clarity and Tyrion himself knew that two minds working together were better than one.

Aegon was still fuddling with the last strap of his cloak and Tyrion took the initiative to help him with it. "Thank you." Was his curt response.

Tyrion knew that he wanted to remove all the armor so he continued untying the straps on the pauldrons. "We need to get you a squire to handle this." As Tyrion said that his thoughts drifted to his former squire a skinny and silent boy with the brain of a pea pod.

"I'm sure there will be no shortage of boys fighting for the position soon enough." Then the shoulder pads dropped off and Tyrion set them down and went to work on the chest piece. "You've heard the news from King's Landing I suppose?"

"I have." Tyrion answered as he slipped the leather strap through the knot. "My sister and Margaery Tyrell are on trial by the High Septon."

Aegon caught the chest guard as it fell and dropped it on the floor. "They call him the High Sparrow I've heard." His voice was teeming with frustration.

"I've heard that as well. And I've also heard he is as pious as Baelor the Blessed." _Or Befuddled I always thought._  "This could throw our plans off you realize?"

"Of course I know that." Aegon sounded insulted as he pulled the boiled leather over his head. "And it's a good thing you put other plans in motion." He smoothed his woolen tunic down and Tyrion noted it was dyed the same color as his eyes.

Returning to the chair by the window, Tyrion saw that they were passing under the Titan of Braavos and the covered murder holes under it's skirt. "Do you want to talk over a  quick game?" Tyrion asked, as Aegon stored his crown in his trunk.

Aegon shook his head and splayed himself out on his bed. "I don't feel like thrashing you today."

Tyrion snickered. "Seems your memory is a little foggy, was that whole procession to much for you? Because I'm confident you've never beaten me once." He then grabbed his wine skin from his belt and pulled the stopper. "Now how about we start with the horned beast you saw." Aegon gave no retort, so Tyrion went on. "I read of a one horned beast of solid skin and a soft mind, that prowls the grasslands of Sarnor, could that be what you saw?"

"No, it was mountainous and rocky. There was no grass in sight and the waters of the coast whipped against the shores fiercely." Tyrion took a sip of wine and could feel Aegon's stare beating at his back, just waiting for an answer.

"Then there is only one other area, I could think of." And it chilled Tyrion to his bones to just think of it.  _Maester Balder's The Edge of the World, made it quite clear._  "Skagos. Rumors say that it is home to cannibals and monsters."

That seemed to entertain Aegon as his smile grew. "Rumors said I was dead, but here I am on my way back to Westeros with an army at my back. Now that we've determined where I was, we need to figure out what it meant."

"It is just a passing thought, but ... youtalked of a wolf correct?"  _It is a very unlikely chance, and it might be crazy to even bring it up._

"I saw a horned beast ride to a wolf's aid in my first vision." Aegon then sat up and rested against the cabin wall.

"I'm mistaken then. I thought you said the wolf was being attacked by a unicorn, not protected."  _If he thinks a male Stark is hiding on Skagos he'll want to sail for it. He would much prefer a male Stark to contend against Stannis with then Sansa._

"Did you send send copies to the Citadel for Marwyn?" Aegon asked as Tyrion's mind still lingered on his wife.

Tyrion shook his head absentmindedly and explained. "It will take Marwyn at least another month to get there, and we don't need others reading what you saw." A great horn then blew from the fading Titan of Braavos to wish them goodbye. "You shouldn't keep things from me, as your Hand we need to always be on the same side lest chaos follow."

"When have I kept anything from you since I made you my Hand?" Aegon asked in his best possible tone of naivete, but Tyrion knew that his eyes were his tell, they always stared too long or hard.

 _We're to begin?_ Tyrion wondered and chose an easy subject. "You haven't told me the whole story of when that intruder took the eggs yet."

Quickly Aegon's lips turned into a smile before dropping into a neutral line. "If I don't hatch any egg, my life is safe. I payed them two eggs to not tempt myself and to set the bar higher than nearly any could pay." He told him again.

"And I know thats not the true story, you're hiding something from me. Just like Marwyn hides things from me, and from you."  _And you must have your own secrets from him as well._ "So do you wish to let me help you or not?"

He looked over Tyrion's shoulder at that point and muttered. "I've already told you the truth."

 _I won't be able to break him yet._ Tyrion knew that Aegon was beginning to hunker down and protect himself by going silent. It was his way and Tyrion had to accept it for now, it seemed to be a sort of quirk of him. When he had an idea he would go quiet and ponder it for hours on end, and when he was done he would either exclaim it with pride or admit he needed help. _He certainly bottles things up like Jaime told me Rhaegar did. He will lay all responsibility on himself, unless their is no choice but to gain help._ "I trust you believe our Master of Ships will succeed?" Tyrion asked to bring Aegon from his shell.

"He's been my friend since I was still soiling myself. If his brother would have lived then I would have had another obstacle in my way. But I assure you he played his part perfectly and is on the next step. I need my little Lord and he will deliver him to me, I know he will."

"And your adopted father Gulian-"

"The soldiers will be meeting up with us in the Claw. Marwyn sent word before he left." Aegon said without any thought.

 _And don't you think as the Hand of the King, I should have known about that?_ Tyrion shook it off and knew that it wasn't worth getting frustrated over. "Good, very good." Tyrion couldn't help himself. "And is there anything else you feel like telling me?"

Wordlessly Aegon shook his head and pulled his lute out from under the bed. "I don't, I promise. Now if you don't mind." He then strummed a low note and sang out. "As the sun rose high, all the lies were blind, for it was the hour of the wolf." Was his melodious and sweet voice, that sounded of what honey tasted.

As Tyrion closed it eyes to enjoy the gentle rocking of the boat and Aegon's words, he thought of Sansa who never would love him, then of Shae who only loved his coin, and then finally of Tysha, his sweet and innocent Tysha who he had wronged worse than any sin. "I'm sorry." Tyrion muttered under his breath and feared Aegon had heard him, but to Tyrion's pleasure if he did he ignored him and continued singing.  _Only her._ _Only she could make my pain die._ Tyrion felt the urge to look at Aegon's sad eyes and knew in his heart that men were made to carry their pains.  _Even ones as young and naive as him have pain they carry, and if it doesn't break Aegon than it won't break me. For I am a truer Lion than any other ... and they will hear me roar of my vengeance._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things frequently.
> 
> I know it wasn't the most exciting of chapters, but it can't always be exciting, so please bear with me.


	19. The Little Wolf

Rickon:

 

The voice was still clear as day in his head. "A man will come to find you, when he does you must not resist and must go with him, for the age of the wolf is coming."It was Bran's voice, Rickon knew it in his heart and it filled him with warmth. He had heard the voice late at night days ago, and every night since it has filled him with excitement. 

"It wasn't your brother, in the north we knew that voices in your head that were not your own, were evil. Ignore it best you can." Osha had warned him, but she had always warned him against good things.

Rickon kicked off of the boulder he was sitting on and whistled. "Come Shaggy." He called, and then the great black wolf dove from the brush surrounding the pond. "Did you find anything?" He asked the direwolf who then loudly howled. "Well lead me then." Rickon told him and threw his short stick bow on his back and loaded his stone arrows into his fur quiver. _Better be something large._ Rickon prayed as it had been nearly two days since him and Shaggy had a true meal. Small birds didn't do much for his wolf's hunger and it didn't leave much for Rickon himself.

They both ran through the rocky and stony hills of Skagos with certainty in their steps. It had not always been so, when Osha had first brought him to this strange and foreign land, he had hated it. "It's cold and rocky."He had complained. "Wheres the sun?" He had asked two days after the clouds still wouldn't recede, then she laughed and told him that this was as good as it got here. They had found house Magnar as she had said they would, but it wasn't like anything he thought it would be. They had a small castle made of wood on the top of a barren hill, and there were no servants there. 

"And don't call them Skagosi, little lord. They don't like it. Call them Stoneborn if anything at all."She warned him before he met the lord of the keep.

Who was a strong man with hair as dark as the waters surrounding the island, he spoke a little of the common tongue. "King Stark. My home is yours."He had struggled to say and when Rickon attempted to correct the man, that he wasn't a king, Osha informed him that they wouldn't understand how Rickon could be a lord while he himself was too.

As Shaggy bounded over a shallow stream, Rickon heard the distinct cry of a doe and knew he had found his supper. "Shaggy, lead him out of the hills." Rickon commanded and then split off west from his wolf. 

"We hunt for our own food here, little Lord."Osha had told him and then proceeded to teach him how to craft his own bow.

"It won't bend." Rickon had complained and in anger he snapped the branch in two. 

"I hope you're happy, if you can't control yourself then we'll try this again on the morrow." She then turned from him and called back when she was almost out of sight. "Good luck finding your own dinner." 

That night Rickon had been very hungry, so he went looking for another stick to try again and he struggled in the darkness of the night until Bran spoke to him and the warmth returned. "You are a Stark of Winterfell ... you will endure and you will survive." Bran had then instructed him in how to build his bow. "Find a strong and light colored branch your height and be sure it is as thick as your finger." It had taken time, but Shaggy found what he was looking for. Bran spoke to him nearly that entire night and when the darkness finally loosened it's grip, Rickon had finished his bow.

Another cry echoed in the air, and Rickon turned northeast towards the flatlands.  _Keep him going this way Shaggy._ Rickon knew that his wolf could hear him, they had a bond that scared even Osha and she wasn't scared of anything. He pulled himself onto the sole tree in sight and waited for Shaggy and the prey to cross his sight.

"How did you manage that?" Osha had asked him when she found him in the morning. Rickon thought about telling her of Bran again, but knew she wouldn't be happy so he told her of how he stayed up the entire night working on it, which was no lie. She had tested the pull herself and admitted it was good and strong. Then she had taught him of how to fletch arrows.

"Stone won't break their skin." Rickon had complained foolishly as Osha went to work on sharpening the arrow heads.

"Oh M'lord is so wise, would you care to go find me some iron heads then?"Sometimes it truly angered him at how young she treated him, but he listened and studied her teachings and found it easy to craft arrows.

"There they are." Rickon muttered in excitement as he pulled back an arrow while his great and black Shaggy hunted after a light brown doe. _Enough._ He told Shaggy and on command the wolf slowed behind it and Rickon let loose his arrow, which flew fast and true striking the doe in the side.  _Finish._ He told his Shaggy who then pounced on the injured doe and ended it's suffering with a crunch to the neck. He hopped off his perch and bounded over to his prey. "Get off of it." Rickon commanded and the wolf gave a small whimper before backing off. "You'll enjoy it better after it's been cooked. Just give me a moment."

Rickon pulled out a piece of flint and three sticks he had brought with him. After a short struggle to start a fire, he cut into the doe and threw a piece of red meat on the flames.  _I should bring back some back for the others._ Rickon pondered while he watched the meat pop and smoke. 

"We all hunt for ourselves out here little lord, bring back what you can for the group and they won't forget it when they fill their bellies." Osha's voice reminded him.

Shaggy let out a high pitched whine and Rickon knew he wouldn't wait, so he cut the left shoulder off and left it for Shaggy to pull at. "If you can't wait like me then that's all your getting." He lied to his wolf as it gave him one passing look of doubt before ripping into his meal. _  
_

"We can go fishing for food."Bramun, the Lord Magnar's son had told him days ago before he left the Magnar's castle of wood. He was one of the few he'd met that knew the common tongue and was the runt of the pack according to Osha. 

"I can find my own food."Rickon had told him bluntly and the night after he had left he realized that Bramun wasn't trying to speak down to him, he was just trying to be friendly. The meat had begun to brown so Rickon speared it with his knife and put it on the rocks to cool, and then he cut a long strip off the back and started cooking it as well.

 _I'll make sure he gets the best piece._ Rickon promised himself and then felt Bramun would be happy and forget about his rudeness. _Make sure you bring me some good cuts as well, little lord._ Rickon imagined Osha telling him.

After a while, Rickon's bum started to get sore from sitting on the rocks, so he decided he had rested long enough. "You're gonna help me bring it back to the castle right?" Rickon asked Shaggy in jest and the wolf simply gave him a sideways glance before dropping his head back down on the leg bone of the doe. It took Rickon a true while, but he managed to gut and skin the prey completely and he loaded his bags with all the meat he could and slung the larger cuts over his shoulders.  _I still have at least half a prey or more left._ Rickon complained to himself as he stared down at the bloody carcass.  _If only I was bigger and stronger I could have just carried it._ Rickon shrugged and knew there was nothing he could do now, so he set off towards the Magnar's castle with his spoils of the hunt.

"Beware the false King and his snow." Rickon remembered his brother Bran warning him in his dreams and then his hair stuck up on the back of his neck as he did. "The mermaids are our friends and when they come to find you, you must go with them to their home." His brother had told him the last night, before fading away and leaving his warmth behind. He had no idea how Bran could do it, but he did and Rickon knew he would continue to help him.

The light had started to dimmer when he finally passed by the village of Stoneblack, but he knew that he would be able to make it back to the Magnar's castle before it turned dark. He had started to feel hunger so he reached into his bag tore a piece of meat off and tossed it into his mouth. _It's a bit bland._ Rickon admitted and his mind wandered to the great feast he remembered at his old home.  _I'd never seen the castle so full, as then._ But Rickon struggled to place names to the faces he still saw. His own father and mother had lost their faces to him long ago, but he still remembered their voices well.

"I'll come back with father, now be good and listen to Bran while I'm gone." A faceless man told him as they stood in a room in Winterfell.

Rickon didn't know who he was, but he knew that he was a liar.  _I never saw my father again, and I never saw my mother, or him ever again._

"Wow, how did you get that?" Called out a coarse and unsteady voice, that Rickon knew was Bramun.

"Help me get it all up the hill." Rickon asked as the black haired boy hopped and skipped down the hill towards him with a bright smile. "Take these." Rickon then handed the two bags full of meat to the runt of the Magnar's and held onto the heavy chunks of meat, as he didn't think he could hold them anyway.

Even with the small amount he had handed him, Bramun seemed to teeter and stagger back up the hill. "Your mother said that if you didn't come back on the morrow she was gonna find you."

Rickon knew he meant Osha, but decided he didn't care to correct him again. "I don't need anyone's help. I can hunt and take care of myself." He stated in slight anger that Osha thought he needed to be protected like some runt.  _I'm not him, I can fight and run all day if I need to._

Bramun eagerly nodded his head, and Rickon could see him starting to get red in the face from the exertion. "I know I couldn't do anything close to this. All I can do is fish and help cook."

"Someone needs to cook. I burnt the meat I already had." Rickon hadn't, but Bramun didn't need to know that. Both boys got to the top of the hill and entered the wooden castle. "I brought supper." Rickon called out proudly and knew that he would never get tired of saying it. Just as he called, several of Lord Magnar's daughters ran to greet them. The older and bigger girls took the large slabs Rickon carried on his back, while the smaller girls carried off the smaller bags to the kitchens. Rickon decided he would go find Osha and tell her of his success, and then he heard Bramun's footsteps behind him. "You don't need to keep following me. I'll tell you all about it at supper." He told the smaller boy, who nodded quickly and ran off.

Rickon meant to go find Osha's room, but all of the Lord's daughter came back and gave him a kiss each. He knew that it was how they showed their gratitude, but Rickon hated it and felt it was demeaning. After they finished, Osha's voice rung out on the verge of laughing. "It seems my little Lord has proven himself useful. From the blood your dripping I imagine it was a deer or something of that nature."

He didn't care about the blood, if anything it kept him warm and made him feel strong. "It was a doe."

She stepped down from the stairs and wiped his matted hair out of his face. "Aren't you strong, hunting some poor female deer. Was the stag too scary for you?"

"I didn't see the stag or I would've killed that instead." He then pushed past her towards his room.

"Oh I believe you." She responded as she followed him into his room. As Rickon looked around he was pleasantly surprised to see a bath was drawn. "Get cleaned up, you're dripping red."

Rickon didn't argue and stripped out of his furs and leathers down to the nude, and hopped into the cold bath water. "Couldn't you have heated some water?" He asked in discomfort before dipping his head under the water.

Osha was picking up his clothes and waited for him to come back up for air. "Well it was warm two days ago. But you decided to run off with that wolf of yours." Rickon didn't want to hear this from her after he had brought supper so he stared at the wooden beams above him. "But you did good." She murmured and then kneeled down beside the tub. "But if you run off without me again I'll start tying you to your bed at night." She then kissed his cheek and went off with his clothes to wash them.

After she left Rickon looked around the room and spotted Shaggy sleeping on his bed. "It wasn't that tiring." He told his wolf, but he didn't seem to hear him as he didn't even lift his head. Although Rickon hated to admit it, he was happy to be sleeping indoors and he knew he would receive a good meal tonight. He made sure the room was empty before saying a quick prayer. "Wherever you are, I hope you're safe brother. When I get old enough I will find you, I swear." He then dipped himself under the water again, and imagined that he was back on the raft with Osha when they had first came to Skagos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things frequently.
> 
> Oh and Rickon is 8


	20. The Court of Maidenpool

Tyrion:

 

“M’lord Lannister.” Said another mercenary, this one armed with a longbow who then bowed respectfully before Tyrion. This one was nearly the hundredth Tyrion felt had said that since he had left the ship

As he rode through the packed dirt roads leading to Jonquil’s Tower, Tyrion realized how large their army seemed in such a tiny village outside of an even tinier tower. _We’re nearly ten thousand strong, thanks to the Clawmen families._

“There he is, the Hand of the King.” Murmured a soldier wearing the green and white pig of house Boggs on his chest.

“Small little fella, isn't he? A Lannister I’ve heard as well.” Replied another soldier, this one wearing the red and white crescent of house Cave on a shield.

“How can King Aegon trust him?” Asked a rough looking knight who wore no insignia, and Tyrion guessed the man was a freerider.

A bright white and brown horse pushed up beside Tyrion’s right and blocked the conversion. “Wasn't much of a battle.” Exclaimed Harlys, who was wearing his colored helm molded into the shape of an owl.

Tyrion didn't know if a battle without any deaths was considered an actual battle. They had sailed the coast and had taken the town and castle of Maidenpool immediately, they had even caught several ships on the way out of the Claw. Aegon had went with the vanguard earlier in the morning to ensure their was no sacking. He had been confident that the Clawmen would join them and they did to Tyrion's relief, and it only took one day for all of the houses to dip their banners and bring their troops with them up the coast. And after they had secured the town center, Harlys was sent to escort Tyrion, as Aegon was holding court.

“I don’t see any blood or bodies.” Tyrion replied back and could see Harlys smile poking through the owl’s beak.

“The forty or so soldiers left behind, surrendered as our feet hit the land. While most of the peasants either scattered into the woods or hid in their homes. Matters not, I'm sure they'll be back when they don't see smoke or fires.”

Tyrion could tell, as the streets were all filled with armed and armored men, and he didn't see any of the smallfolk around. But as he looked around at the small hovels of straw and thatch, he guessed many were just watching from within their homes, praying to the Gods that these men weren't the same sort of men the Mountain had commanded when he sacked the village.

“And I suppose Aegon kept a good eye on Branton.”

Harlys leaned in close to Tyrion, in case any were listening closer then they should. “Oh aye, and I watched him closely myself. Just as you asked of me M’lord. He kept his hands to himself and made sure his men did the same.”

 _Good._ Tyrion mused to himself as they started climbing up the muddy hill to Jonquil's Tower. As he looked at the pink stone walls that surrounded the hill, Tyrion remembered them once being in a much better condition at one point, but he could see that it looked like the repairs had started not too long ago. “Were the prisoners already brought before him?”

“Aye they were, the larger one nearly soiled himself when we told him where he was going. He then sputtered to us, that a deal was a deal and he was supposed to be brought home. ‘The Lannisters promised my father', he said. So I told him, not our Lannister and he’s the only Lannister that has power here.” Harlys was trying to charm him, Tyrion knew that, not that he was subtle at it.

Tyrion nodded and urged his horse through the gates, and saw a monstrosity of wooden carts and platforms stacked together to make a throne. He could see what looked to be a two boards ripped from a wall that served as an armrest. "What is that thing?" Tyrion asked Harlys as they got closer to it.

Harlys let out a quick chuckle and explained. "Those Clawmen put it together when his Grace called for court." It looked to be ten feet tall not including the back of it, which was made with several wooden doors tied together. "I suppose you could say it was the thought behind it that really matters."

As they stopped and dismounted from their steeds, Lord Alan Hardy paced over to them while his two axes swung and banged together on his back, causing a loud an uncomfortable noise to the ears. "Ahh Lord Lannister, the King has been waiting." Tyrion then followed after Lord Hardy towards the central plaza where he had seen the wooden throne.

"Who's on trial?" Tyrion asked as he struggled to keep up with Hardy's long stride.

Hardy then slowed down and allowed Tyrion to keep speed. "Well first is the sitting Lord William Mooton. I don't think that will take long, he'll toss himself before our King and grovel for forgiveness. Never was made of stern anything he was, but it may keep him alive and help keep his holding." As they rounded the stable, Tyrion noted the crowd of lords, their sons, knights, and sellswords who were grouped in a circle around the throne of carts. And Aegon himself was seated high above them with his legs crossed in thought while he waited.

As Aegon saw Tyrion in the crowd he spoke up. "Bring Lord Mooton forward." He commanded, then the crowd separated and a pale and soft looking man with a wispy mustache was dragged forward. He didn't look as if the recent war had affected him too heavily, Tyrion noted, as he was dressed in a bright red ensemble that didn't have a spot of dirt or mud on it. "Do you know why you've been brought before me my Lord?" Aegon asked him in an even tone.

Lord Mooton bowed his head and wouldn't look up at Aegon as he spoke. "I do, your Grace." Without hesitation or reluctance, William Mooton dropped down to his knees and splashed into the mud. "If you would give me leniency I assure you, you won't regret it." Tyrion knew that Lord Mooton's reputation was not one made of bold or brave actions, but he didn't even negotiate with them at all.

From the look of Aegon's face he had the same thoughts Tyrion did. "If you are true and honest in that, then I welcome you Lord Mooton." William finally worked his courage up and eagerly nodded to Aegon. "But there is the small issue of your eldest daughter being married to the Tarly heir."

William paled an even lighter shade and stuttered out his response. "I'm truly sorry, your Grace. But all seemed lost against the Baratheons and I had no choice, they would have stripped me of my ancestral lands if I said no. Please I beg for your forgiveness and I throw myself at your mercy, but I ask that you don't punish my sons for my follies." His head then bowed again and he was nearly kissing the mud, it looked increasingly humiliating to Tyrion and he did that of his own free will.

Aegon didn't need to consult Tyrion on this matter, as they both knew what needed to be done. "Please stand, Lord Mooton." Commanded Aegon, and after Mooton rose back to his feet, Tyrion suppressed a smile as his bright red outfit was now stained black and brown. "Fear not, for I will give you my lenience like I promised in my letters-"

"Thank you, oh thank you, your Grace." Interrupted William, and Tyrion knew that was a stupid and foolish move.

But to Tyrion's relief, Aegon seemed to wave the interruption off. "But, to see that you remain loyal and steadfast, your second son Travan will submit himself as a ward. And I will be leaving a detachment of soldiers to stay here. I assume this is acceptable?"

Lord Mooton's fervently nodded and his mustache shook like a wave. "That is more than acceptable your Grace, I can assure you that my son will be most useful and cooperating with you."

"I count on it. You are dismissed my Lord." On Aegon's word they allowed him to leave and he set off for his tower, no doubt to inform his family of some tale that extolled his own courage. Aegon subtly ushered Tyrion to come closer and waited until Tyrion found his place beside the cart throne to speak. "Next is Ser Desmond Grell, step forward Ser." As the large man walked to the open plaza, he didn't bow or fret under Aegon. "I understand that you were to be escorted to the Wall, why was that?"

The big bellied man looked up at Aegon directly and showed no fear. "I requested the fate myself. I was once in service to house Tully of Riverrun, and after our eventual defeat following the ... Red Wedding," He turned from Aegon and spit out yellow phlegm in disgust. "And the damned Frey's betrayal. So as a result I've been named a traitor, and the house I swore my life to has been forced into exile and ruin. I have nothing left to do, but this." Tyrion knew in his heart that this man was a Tully loyalist through and through, and pitied that he couldn't be shaken to their side.

"If that is what you desire good Ser, I will not deny you that honorable path. But I would like to offer you a place alongside me as well, I'll need men who are familiar with the Riverlands."

Desmond gave Aegon a courteous nod for his words, but then shook his head. "I thank you for your offer, but I could only serve one house and one house alone, the Tullys."

"I respect your loyalty to them good Ser, but unfortunately I have no ships that can ferry you to the Wall, and those ships I captured will be needed I fear." Aegon then looked down to Tyrion. "I believe we can allow him the hospitality befitting of his status, until we can send him north."

As Desmond's gaze turned to Tyrion, the anger rose in his eyes. "I'm sure Lord Mooton will be more than pleased to accommodate him." Tyrion didn't care of this fallen master-of-arms opinion on him, as he had suffered such looks even before the war, and he knew he would suffer far worse than that.

"Then I dismiss you, Ser Desmond. And remove those shackles on him, I'm sure he won't cause trouble."

After a short and fat man took the metal bindings off of Desmond, he rubbed at the chaffs on his wrist and nodded his understanding. "I swear I won't break that trust, your Grace."

"Good," Aegon scanned over the crowd and found who he was looking for. "Garrat Hardy, may you ensure Ser Desmond settles into camp?"

Alan Hardy's heir, pushed his way through the crowd and kneeled. "Of course, your Grace. I would be honored." Garrat motioned for Desmond to follow him and they set off towards the camp, though Desmond was noticeably faster now that his shackles were removed.

After Aegon called for Robin Ryger, the old captain of the guard of Riverrun, it went similar to Desmond Grell. After he explained the situation he choose for himself, Aegon gave him the same fate as Desmond Grell. Tyrion remembered his brother Jaime tell him of his daring escape down the river with Brienne of Tarth, were Robin Ryger chased them on his galley.  _Pity another couldn't be shaken to our cause._ Tyrion admitted and then heard a loud cheer break out in the men as Aegon called for the Lannister troops they captured on their ships, who were escorting the former two men to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

This took a significant more amount of time, as the group was nearly thirty five strong and they needed to be escorted by nearly sixty Stormbreakers who added even more size to the wall of bodies around the plaza. "Request that a man amongst them act as their representative. It will make everything simpler." Tyrion advised Aegon.

"Is there a captain or lieutenant amongst you, that can claim leadership?" Aegon asked and his lips almost twitched into a smile as the soldiers below him quake in fear at their coming fate.

And after a short discussion amongst the group, a man in splint mail who wore the yellow standard of house Clegane stepped forward.  _Couldn't have made a worse choice if you tried._ Tyrion mused to himself, but he was also slightly excited to see how this went for them.

"I will speak on our behalf." The man said as his eyes stared forward at the stairs to Aegon's throne of wagons.

"And do you have a name I can call you by?" Aegon asked, just barely hiding his disgust for the man.

The Clegane standard wearing man finally worked up his courage to look up at Aegon, and Tyrion noted how disgustingly broken his nose was. "My name is Dunsen, M'lord."

Aegon didn't seem to notice the disrespect in how he addressed him or he didn't care. "Dunsen, I sentence you and your comrades to high treason, for the crimes attributed to you and those the men under Gregor Clegane." Aegon's voice hid none of his disdain now.

Without haste Dunsen dropped to his knees as the other captives began begging for mercy or screaming bloody vengeance. "Please, M'lord I beg for mercy."

"M'lord? I'm not your Lord, dear Dunsen." Aegon quickly stood from the throne and Tyrion almost feared it would topple for how it wobbled. "I'm your King. And you beg for mercy? You who served a man utterly without mercy?" Tyrion felt a presence move beside him and saw it was Lord Hardy who held an axe in hand, in case any charged at Aegon. "Are you going to claim that you weren't ordered to sack this village? Because I'm sure any of the goodfolk of this village here, would be happy to testify on it."

Dunsen knew he was in a difficult position, but Tyrion knew if he was smart he would realize it was an impossible situation. This was a mock of a trial not because of Aegon's hatred which would have been difficult to overcome regardless, but because they were caught in their own shit.  _And now it's time for them to reap what they sowed._

"But M'lo- I mean your Grace. That was war, you would have done the same and shown no mercy." And there it was, Dunsen had fallen into Aegon's trap and he had not even known it yet.

"I surely agree with you. So as such, Commander Branton." As Aegon called for him, the grisly and cruel Mercenary Captain stepped forward and waited for his command. "Bring them to the edge of town and hang them. But before you do, have one of your men go to the village center and announce the crimes that these men have committed, and then invite any of the goodfolk that wish to see justice done to accompany them."

When he announced that, the prisoners went into an uproar directed at Aegon or Dunsen, it differed from man to man. "Tactfully done." Tyrion admitted.

"As you command, your Grace." That seemed to give Branton some joy as he had not been able to bloody his sword this day, but he would take lives and that was what he wanted more then anything. Tyrion knew that he probably saw that dwarf's face in each and every man he killed. Just like Tyrion saw Cersei's face in every person he knew Aegon and him would end.

Then the Stormbreakers dragged the prisoners away from the plaza and Aegon waited until they couldn't hear their cries of anger to call for the next man. "Next, bring forth Wylis Manderly."

 _Wylis Manderly, the heir to White Harbor ... his father has declared for Roose Bolton._ Tyrion remembered the situation and looked up to Aegon who had returned to his seated position, and told him with a stare to be cautious. It took four men from the Bright Banners to drag the obscenely fat man up the hill and into the plaza.  _He's seen better days._ Tyrion mused as he looked over man as his eyes were sunken and the fat from his face now hung low.  _This war has aged him at least ten years._

Wylis was the first to speak. "It was promised to my father that I would be returned home."

"I'm sorry my Lord, but I promised your father no such thing." Aegon replied sternly and it seemed to reel Wylis.

"The Lannisters told my father that if he stayed loyal to Roose Bolton then I would be returned safely." Wylis argued.

Tyrion wondered if he was even in a coherent state for this. "And this is King Aegon the Sixth, not Tommen Baratheon. What ever deal your father made is of no concern to us, Ser."

Wylis knees trembled before they buckled and he bowed before Aegon and Tyrion. "Please let me return home, I beg of you, let me see my family." His face was deep in the mud and he didn't seem to care as he nearly was breaking into tears.

Quickly Aegon called for them to remove him from his sight and to keep him guest on the Maelstrom, so as to spare him the humiliation of what he was going to do. Tyrion knew that him and Aegon would have to speak with the broken man in a more private setting if they wished to truly negotiate with the man. After they had removed him and brought him towards the harbor, Aegon called for the next man; Harrion Karstark the Lord of Karhold.

After they had dragged him in chains and irons, Tyrion knew from the way he fought back against them that he still had his fire and he wasn't broken yet. "Remove the irons from him." Aegon commanded and so the men did. Harrion didn't look any happier, but Aegon continued. "I understand you have been captive since you attempted an attack on Duskendale with the rest of your northern host."

Harrion looked back directly at Aegon and showed no fear as he replied. "I have, we were betrayed by Roose Bolton. When we attacked the Reachmen we suffered heavy casualties as they had known of our coming and had prepared reserves to take us in the back. We would have pulled out, but the Mountain's troops squashed us against the sea." Harrion said without hesitation or stutter.

"Then you should be pleased to know that those men under Gregor Clegane are currently being hung as we speak."

The black bearded northmen shrugged his shoulders. "It won't bring my men's lives back, but it is good that justice is being done."

Aegon looked to Tyrion for advice, but Tyrion simply urged him to continue. "Have you heard of the recent events?"

"They didn't tell me much, I admit. When you and your soldiers arrived on the coast that was the first I'd heard of you." Harrion honestly informed Aegon.

"The realm is in chaos my good Lord Karstark, and I mean to end it."

"Many have claimed the same." Harrion said fearlessly. "And I don't know if you truly are a Targaryen as you claim, but it matters not to me. My father fought along with half of the realm all those years ago to remove your incestuous bloodline from the realm, and I don't mean to turn my back on my father's efforts." Tyrion worried of Aegon's response, but he gave nothing away with his stare and simply listened. "And if you think that I will surrender myself to you, then you are mistaken. We have finally remembered a truth that we never should have forgotten, and if I ever mean to bow to a King or Queen it will be a Stark. The North will never bow under the yoke of the south again, I swear that to you Dragon King."

"And who would you mean to bow to?" Tyrion asked in Aegon's place, as he knew he needed to regain control of the situation. "Robb Stark is dead, his younger siblings are either dead or missing." Tyrion didn't mean to reveal Stannis' Stark to Harrion and hoped to make the man look like a fool for supporting a dead house rather than a truly alive house like the Targaryens.

Harrion didn't miss a beat in his answer. "It matters not if they are missing, the North takes care of it's own and they will be found. Justice will be done for all of the crimes the south and the Boltons have suffered on us. I trust my heart and I tell you now, the Starks will rise again. So give me whatever fate you see fit, for I will never bow or bend to your King," And if looks could kill Tyrion knew he would be dead. "Imp."

Like a sword slashing through the air, was Aegon's stern and even voice. "Escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon and see that he is fed and bathed. I remember my manners and honor." Several men from house Hardy lifted Harrion to his feet and were joined by Alan Hardy himself who personally helped them re-shackle the northern lord. "If that is all, then I do declare the first court of Maidenpool dismissed." Aegon climbed down the steps of the cart throne and turned to Harlys and told him. "Let the goodfolk of this village know that food will be handed out to them later this night and if they wish to bring any matter before me, they will have their chance on the morn."

Harlys bowed his head. "I will do it right this moment, my King." He then backed away and was followed by several men of his company.

"It went better than I expected." Aegon muttered and motioned for Tyrion to follow after him towards his pavilion.

Tyrion could hear the clattering armor of the men behind them, and tried to ignore them. "I had hoped Karstark would see reason." Tyrion admitted, as he was hopeful Harrion would have been sour on the Starks after Robb Stark had executed his father.

"Mayhaps he'll see reason soon."

Tyrion doubted his resolve breaking, but he humored Aegon. "Only time will tell." As they arrived at the large and decadent tent, Tyrion saw Aegon's Dark tied up by the side eating at an apple.

In the center of the tent was a cloth map on pine table that wobbled fiercely. "We'll be camping here until the first shipment of food arrives from Braavos and then we will take half the army to the west and the other half will travel north along the Kingsroad." Aegon traced his finger along the trail leading west and hit all of the castles leading to Riverrun.

Tyrion knew that it was Aegon's preferred plan, but they had fought multiple times in the last few days about it. "And I will tell you again, that we are leaving ourselves open to attack from King's Landing. While the small council may be incompetent in most things, they will at least know to do that."

Aegon sighed in exhaust and said again. "And the Tyrells will persuade them not to. As soon as this business with the High Septon ends, we will send word demanding a full surrender. But in the mean time, I need to begin securing my Kingdom."

"And the Tyrells have turned their army south to siege Storm's End. From what I've heard this High Septon is not like the others before him, he can't be bought or intimidated."

The young King let out a chuckle as he bite into a green apple. "Just what I need, a zealot leader of the Faith. We'll have to find a way to deal with this reemergence of the Faith Militant as well."

That troubled Tyrion more then anything. _It took nearly ten years and two Kings to put this down last time it happened._ To Tyrion it was another thing to hate his sister for, as Tyrion knew that every way this ended would result in blood and more death for the realm.  _For who do the people follow in times of strife? Their Gods avatar or their King?_ And he remembered the riddle Varys poised to him all that time ago.

It would then be nearly three more days of relative silence where Aegon in that time presided over the wrongdoings done to the people of Maidenpool, while Tyrion continued to plan and prepare the orders, before the next step of their plan came to fruition on the hull of a ship.

Tyrion was breaking his fast with bread and some picked wild berries when a horn sounded in the distance. "What is that?" Tyrion asked Harlys as he was standing at the flap to the tent.

"It's a ship." Harlys responded and then left the tent without another word.

 _One ship? Can't be the food already._ Tyrion filled his mouth with berries and followed after Harlys. He grimaced as the morning light hit his eyes, and had to squint to see a three decked warship docking in the small fishing harbor. Men were running around in quite a frenzy on that morn, and Tyrion almost felt they thought they were being attacked. "What's happening?" Tyrion asked a giant of man who had the brown claw of house Brune on his chest. The man skidded on his heels to a stop and bowed his head to address Tyrion, and told him that some great Admiral and Lord had arrived to swear their loyalty.

Tyrion dismissed him and walked as fast as his legs could take him to the plaza of judgement as Tyrion had taken to calling it.  _More Lords have come to join us already, pity they only brought one ship._ On the way there he saw Lord Mooton ordering some Stormbreakers around, who in turn simply laughed in his face. "The King has called court." Tyrion called to him, and then Lord Mooton jumped and followed after him.

"No one would tell me what was happening." William Mooton complained. "This is my land they are camping on, and they don't have the decency to answer my questions."

 _No this is your King's land._ Tyrion had wanted to say, but decided it would serve no point other then flustering Lord Mooton or making him cross with himself. "It seems we have more Lords coming to surrender." Tyrion exclaimed and that seemed to make William Mooton happy.  _The more Lords that join us, the happy and more secure he will feel._

It took only a few minutes before they pushed through the gathering crowd towards the plaza, but even from a distance Tyrion could make out Aegon on his throne. Tyrion then found his usual spot next to the crude steps leading up to the throne. As they waited, some of the smallfolk who gathered around had taken to cheering Aegon's name to pass the time, and Tyrion noted the rather proud smile on Aegon's face as they did.

From a distance Tyrion could see a envoy of mounted men without sigils were climbing up the hill. As they passed through the pink stoned gate, Tyrion noted the distinct banner flying over them. Leading the group was the silver-haired bastard of Driftmark; Aurane Waters. Though Tyrion had heard men start referring to him as the Lord of the Waters. "I present the honorable Lord of the Waters, Aurane Waters." Introduced a squire from House Pyne.

"It is good to see you, my Friend." Aegon called down to the Aurane as he dismounted from his white steed.

Aurane wasted no time in dropping to his knee. "And you as well, my King."

"I trust you succeeded?"

Aurane waited for Aegon to motion him to stand before answering. "Aye, everything that you asked of me was accomplished. The rest of my dromonds are ferrying the Swann men here, they should arrive within the week."

"Perfect, and what of my later requests?" Aegon adjusted his posture and uncrossed his legs to sit forward, and Tyrion could tell he was hungry for the answers.

The Bastard of Driftmark snapped his fingers and a black haired boy of what looked to be two and ten was brought forward. "Here he is, just as you asked. It was quite a struggle, but I accomplished it all the same." Aurane bragged as he patted the scared looking boy on the head.

As Tyrion looked at him all he saw was Renly Baratheon, but he knew Renly was dead and didn't have ears of that size. "Your name is Edric, correct?" Asked Aegon gently.

The boy timidly peered up at Aegon and looked to be ready to soil himself, but to Tyrion's surprise the boy did neither and nodded his head firmly. And then Tyrion knew that Aegon had found his little Lord, and his key to the Stormlands.

"My name is Edric Storm, your Grace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things frequently.


	21. The Oath That Must Be Kept

Brienne:

 

It was an uncomfortable silence between the group of four, as it had been for nearly a three weeks. They would only share words with each other when absolutely necessary. And Brienne hated that it had to be her, but she felt it needed to be asked. "Where are we going next?"

Jaime and Mudge looked up from their stews to and listened for the answer, and it was Harwin's voice that did. "East, if the Vale isn't where we find m'lady Sansa then we'll turn south and to the Stormlands."

"And if not there, where will we go next?" Jaime asked. Ever since Brienne had lead Jaime from Pennytree to the Brotherhood, where they had captured him and informed him of his two choices it had been tense between them and she knew she was the cause.

Harwin never failed to gain a look of anger when Jaime spoke and this was no different. "Then we go west to the Reach, Kingslayer. Until you fulfill your oath, both of your lives are no longer your own, we will find her and if we die trying then so be it."

Mudge added in. "As long as we find her, those two will be safe from the noose, that we swear." Brienne knew he was speaking of Podrick and Ser Hunt.

 _And we will, somehow._ Brienne knew that they had no choice, and she felt that it was only fair. "We won't be able to get south unless the Gods themselves come down and carry us through the clouds." Jaime spit as he tore into a loaf of brown bread in the middle of the table. "There is an army of nearly one hundred thousand in the south if the rumors peasants tell are to be believed ... so I'd say nearly twenty thousand."

"And we've heard they will be moving on soon." Harwin responded and took his own portion of bread. "Ahh, Gendry." He called to a figure behind Brienne and she turned to see the blacksmith who saved her life from the Biter.

The black haired man was covered in soot and ash and still had his forging leathers on. "You're back I see." He murmured and looked over at Brienne and Jaime before stopping at the head of their table. "Jeyne bring me some stew." He called out as he looked over their portions.

"Still keeping hard at work?" Harwin asked him.

"Aye, I could mend anything if you're planning to stay the night. I still have a bit of metal left over." Gendry then nodded his head to Brienne. "I see you're still breathing."

She still struggled to comprehend how he could look so much of Renly, but managed to respond. "I am, and I never got to thank you for-"

"It's not necessary." He informed her and then both him and Brienne noticed Jaime's stare that never left him. "This one soft in the head or something?"

Brienne grasped Jaime by the elbow and that seemed to snap him from his daze. "Sorry, you ... you look like someone I knew."

Gendry seemed to forget it fast enough, but still held a look of something in his eyes, but Brienne didn't know what it was though. "Aye, I get that a lot." He then turned back to Harwin. "So what are you doing all the way out here?"

The innkeeper named Jeyne found her way into the dining hall with a brown bowl and pushed it into Gendry's hands. "Eat and then get back in your bloody forge, pots need patching."

Gendry nodded his understanding and pulled a stool to the head of the table. "Getting tired of banging out dents for us?" Mudge asked in jest.

"We're going east to find Arya's sister." Harwin told Gendry and then he cut off Gendry's next question before he asked it. "And no you can't come with us. We still need you here to look over the children and inn."

The black haired boy tore a piece of the bread for himself and dunked it into his stew. "I wasn't gonna ask you." It sounded like he was to Brienne, but she wasn't going to speak up. "Not with all the talks of another bloody war anyhow. Some traveler was talking about how they hung those Lannister troops in Maidenpool, and how they've been handing out food."

They had heard the same a few days ago, probably from the same man. "We are well away of this Targaryen King." Said Harwin.

"Have you seen Notch? He told us he was going south to Maidenpool to see what was happening." Mudge said in between bites of bread.

Gendry had the bowl up to his lips and drank deeply, and then he wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. "Aye, he didn't stay though. That was the day before this one. He had me make him some arrows and then he went off down the road."

"What else have you heard of that army?" Jaime broke his silence to ask.

The blacksmith looked back at Harwin for his go ahead and then responded. "Some silver-haired King, people are saying he's some blessing from the Seven," Gendry tried not to snicker and went on. "Some claw people have joined with him I heard, and that red fish Lord of Maidenpool too. Some traveler traded me a salted ham he got from them if I fixed the setting on his dagger."

Nudge called out to the kitchen. "Jeyne! You got a ham back there and you're serving us this?"

"So the Lords of Crackclaw Point and Lord Mooton of Maidenpool." Harwin explained to the group in finer words, though Brienne had understood Gendry well enough.

Jaime stared into his stew and told them. "The Clawmen have always been Targaryen loyalists, so that makes sense. And Mooton is a craven who bends where the wind pushes him."

"House Mooton doesn't have any troops, and the town was in ruin when I saw it." Brienne told them, and even though it had been a far bit of time since then, she knew that it couldn't have changed that soon.

"Some Lord with a green and red archer sigal was rebuilding it, last I heard." Gendry explained and then finished off his meal. "So do you have anything I can work on?"

Mudge stood up and removed his axe from his belt loop. "The handle feels ready to snap and the edges could be fined more." Gendry nodded and took the axe from him.

After he had left, Harwin spoke in a hushed voice. "You know who that boy is, don't you Kingslayer?"

"You said his name was Gendry." Jaime japed and after he was met with a cold and unflinching stare from Harwin, he relented. "Of course I know, he's the spitting image of Robert before he got fat. He even has the same beard growing that Robert once had."

"He's a good lad, loyal and honorable. Although he may be thick headed at times, he's good and true to the causes he swore to." Harwin finished and threw Jaime one last barb before he let him eat in peace.

But Jaime couldn't help himself and japed back. "Oh I believe you, and I'm sure it has nothing to do with the truth that he is one of you. I'm sure if we give him a few years he'll turn out like Robert did. Tell me, has he found the pleasure that cunts and wine can give yet? I suppose not or he would be out back with that innkeeper"

"I'm not sure Kingslayer, but thankfully when he does it won't be with his own sister."

Jaime's face took on a scowl, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "Are we staying the night?" Brienne asked trying to diffuse the situation, and Harwin nodded.

Suddenly a scream then broke out from the front of the inn and everyone stood and drew their weapons. "Soldiers! Lots!" Brienne recognized it as Willow's voice. They left the table and ran to the entrance of the inn.

"Do you recognize their sigils?" Harwin asked as he stepped onto the dirt road blocking the inn. Brienne recognized two of the riders were wearing the tree of house Pyne and the black wings of house Staunton.

"Two are Clawmen." Jaime answered for Brienne. And from her count they looked to be nearly eight strong and each were on a horse. As the troops noticed the foursome, they stopped and one of the men on horse rode to them.

They all held their ground and waited for the horseman to speak. "Clear off the road. King's army is traveling this way." Said a high pitched men wearing a barbute helmet and who wore a yellow and red lighting storm being smashed by a hammer on his shield, but Brienne didn't recognize it.

Brienne turned when she heard the inn's door open and she saw a small boy poke his head out. "Get back inside." Harwin ordered the boy, without the need to turn.

Then the boy backed away from the door and Jeyne passed by him and left the inn with a spear in hand. "The inn is not open. Please leave me land." She told the man, who in turn called over the rest of his group with a wave of his hand.

"Clear off the road. We won't be asking yee again." The high pitched man's voice rung out again, ignoring Jeyne's demand.

Mudge had already given his weapon to Gendry, so he was armed with a dagger in one hand and his dinner knife in the other, but still he stepped forward first. "What King do you serve then?"

A bigger man wearing a hauberk of red mail, stepped down from his horse. After he removed his sallet, Brienne wished he didn't as she saw his grotesque harelip. "The only King of this fucking land. King Aegon the Sixth." He looked around the inn and at each and everyone of them. "Thats a nice glove you got there." He exclaimed as he looked down at Jaime's golden hand.

Jaime didn't have a chance to respond thankfully, as Harwin informed them calmly. "We don't serve your King, and this inn is closed as the good lady back there told you." He was tensing his axe hand along the handle, while his other hand had his sword at the ready.

The harelipped man who Brienne guessed was in charge, looked back at Jeyne who was standing far and away on the porch of the inn. "You don't mean to deny your King a roof to sleep under, do you?"

Jeyne was obviously scared, but took comfort in the Brotherhood being there and between herself and the men. "I'm sorry good Ser, but the inn is all closed up. We only house orphans here now."

That seemed to anger the man as his followers stepped down from their horses next. "You would kick those bastards out if you know what's good for you bitch." His tone was no longer light and he was clearly angry now.

"It's rude to speak to a lady like that." Jaime chided him and meant to step forward if Brienne didn't block him from doing just that.

The harelipped man looked at Brienne and his eyes squinted in confusion. "Is that fucking thing a bitch as well? What they hell happened to ya? Did a bloody wolf bite your damn face off?" She could feel his eyes appraising her and her scar. And she couldn't help notice his own missing chunk on his chin.

"Just keep moving on." Harwin told them threateningly. "This land has seen enough war and destruction and it doesn't need any more of your kind."

The harelipped man drew his sword from over his shoulder and was followed by others behind him. "This the King's land, and if he's feeling right to, he'll burn this fucking pile of timber to the bloody ground. And if you can hold a sword you do well to join his army."

"I serve no King, and I never will again. But if you mean to prey on these good people here, then we will stop you." Harwin's tone was steady and he backed up one step, and Brienne noted it would put him right out of the harelipped man's first swing if he did.

The harelipped man's eyes wandered over to the forge just as Gendry exited with sword and axe in hand. "Six brave fools want to die is it? I'll give you to the count of five to drop your weapons and maybe I won't fuck that brown haired bitch with the spear bloody."

Brienne readied oathkeeper and she noted Jaime had prepared his own blade in a defensive position.  _I need to protect him._ Brienne reminded herself as she had seen Jaime attempt to fight with his left hand and it was not pretty, so she readied into her own defensive stance. "Gendry, take Jeyne inside the inn and keep everyone safe." The Northman told him as he prepared his own weapons.

Gendry meant to argue. "No I-"

"Now!" Harwin demanded, and Gendry gave one last look of defiance before tossing his axe into the ground near them and running Jeyne back into the inn.

Mudge leaned down and picked his axe back up. "Die you fucks!" He screamed as he chucked the axe at the spear wielding man opposite them, which was then embedded in the man's chest seconds later.

It then broke into chaos as the harelipped man slammed his sword down onto Harwin who managed to block it with the dull edge of his axe. "Jaime stay behind me!" Brienne demanded and then she moved to clash steel with a shorter man with a small patch of hair above his lip. He was fast, but not very strong and it took Brienne three strikes before she had tossed him off his balance and ended him with a slash across the throat.

"I've always fucking hated Westerosi." She heard the harelipped man roar out. But Brienne didn't have time to locate who everyone was fighting or how they fared besides for Jaime, but she did notice not all attacked and some hung behind, namely those wearing the sigils of Clawpoint.

Jaime himself was keeping out of the reach of a flail wielding man, who was trying to corner him against an oak tree. Jaime seemed to have a grasp on fighting with his left hand, but he was still too slow and unsure of himself and it showed in his movements. Fortunately for Jaime, Brienne had moved to and stabbed the man through the back of the chest and ended his life before he could land any blow with his mighty weapon. Brienne had then seen a look of fear on Jaime's face and then she felt immense pain on her back and she felt her knees give out soon after.

Another ring of steel filled the air as Brienne remembered where she was and she pushed her face out of the grass and dirt. After she was back to her feet, she saw two of the enemy standing over someone and they stabbed at him over and over while his cries of pain added to the ballad of war. "Do you hear that?" The harelipped man's voice was clear as he continued to batter Harwin around the road, who had since lost his sword.

To Brienne's relief she found Jaime and saw him on top of a purple haired man while he tried to force a dagger into the man's face. He wasn't getting the best of it as he had only one hand and the other man had two to hold him off. Quickly after the man had flipped them over, resulting in the blond Lannister being laid on his back. "Jaime!" Brienne cried as she ran and tackled the man off of him and then she unfortunately landed on the bottom with him on top of her.

It took him a second to realize what had hit him and when he did, Jaime had smashed him over the back of the head with his fist. After he had slumped off of her, Jaime ran his dagger over the man's throat which bled him. "Get up." He told her and then pulled her back to her feet. "Grab your sword." He added and she quickly spotted her Oathkeeper laying in the grass where she had been knocked down earlier.

"Fuck!" Roared out the harelipped leader as he stumbled back from Harwin, who had created a long gash across his chest. "Call for help!" He screamed and then the high pitched man with him lifted a tanned horn to his lips and blew for all he was worth.

As Jaime and Brienne returned to Harwin's side, she noticed he had suffered some minor wounds of his own. "We swore an oath." Harwin managed to huff out past his heavy breathing. He then smacked Brienne on the chest and pushed her back. "You need to get Sansa Stark back, both of you go now!"

"We can't." Brienne argued and readied her sword. "You're wounded and you won't be able to hold them off long enough for anyone to escape. So take Ser Jaime and go, I can hold them off until nightfall if I must."

Then another horn blew in the nearby distance and their enemies smirked as they knew it was soon to be over. "Brienne you can't-" Jaime tried to argue, but Harwin wasn't willing to waste anymore precious time and pulled him away.

"We will save her, I swear to you Lady Brienne." Harwin exclaimed as he pulled Jaime away towards the woods for cover.

"I was ready to give your life up once before, Ser Jaime. But I won't now. So fulfill your oath to Lady Catelyn and I will die happily." She could see a storm of dust and dirt being kicked up far down the road and she knew that it was the reinforcements. "Now go!" She screamed just as the harelipped man slammed his blade against her Oathkeeper.

The supposed leader of the men, screamed at the two Clawmen who were still on horse. "What are you shits doing? After them!" To Brienne's relief they held their ground and didn't move. She didn't see Jaime or Harwin leave, she couldn't as her concentration was completely drawn to the furious looking man still swinging down at her. "They won't get away you stupid bitch. They will be caught and they will be hung, but not you no no no. I'm gonna kill you right here and watch you drown in your own blood." He then kicked her in the knee and nearly stumbled her, but she recovered and backed off to catch her breathe, while she still made sure she had them blocked from passing her.

"You can try." She warned him and then bounced off the balls of her feet and lunged at him with a stab.

He had nearly skewered himself on her sword trying to dodge it, but he did and fell over into the mud. "Fuck! Stop her!" He screamed out in a panic as he pulled himself away.

Brienne had moved to finish the vile man, but suddenly she felt her leg give out and she saw a wooden bolt sticking through her calf, right under the armor. She didn't know if she had blacked out or for how long, but when she regained her sight she was surrounded by a line of cavalry all arming their iron spears at her. "You won't have me!" Brienne roared at them and slapped two spears away with her sword and then the line broke and she saw a black and golden armored man pace his horse up to her. "Do you want to die Ser?" She warned him in a slurred tone and then she felt her arms go numb, soon thereafter her knees buckled and she fell on her stomach. It took a few moments, but she knew that someone had smashed her across the head as she felt her own blood trickling over her ears.

She saw the darkness outlining her vision, but still maintained enough sight to see a black horse that the man rode atop stop in front of her. "She certainly showed you what for Branton, you nearly lost your life and honor it seems." Was the melodious voice she heard, and then Brienne felt another smack echo on the back of her head and the blackness enveloped her vision fully.

"Teach that cunt a lesson, she nearly killed me!" Was the harelipped man's voice as a flurry of blows rained down on her, and she felt it a pity he would be the last voice she heard.

 _Jaime ... I'm sorry, for everything._ Her vision went black, and it was difficult to coherently think, but she only felt sadness and regret as Jaime and her father flashed in her mind and even Podrick and Ser Hunt flashed before her as well.  _And I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter, Father._

It sounded hollow and was echoed but she heard the melodious voice again, and she thought it was the Father calling her to the heavens."Don't kill her. I know that sword, and I know that face even more so."

She felt like the Stranger was taking her, but that voice filled her with memories of her Renly's name day celebration.  _High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts._ Sung the sweet voice of a man whose face she couldn't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things frequently.


	22. The Northern Winds

Jon:

 

"Your brother Theon will face the King's justice." Jon told her again and did his best not to let his voice spike in hatred as he said the name.

"And what justice will that be? Will you or your King take his head in the northern way," Asha had then made a point to look at Godry Farring who was a few paces away. "Or will you let them burn him as they want to appease their red god?"

Jon was riding a grey courser that was gifted to him by Lady Sybelle Glover, alongside the barred wooden cart the Greyjoy was riding in. The snows had started to fall when they had set off from Deepwood Motte and Jon had meant to give her a pelt to cover herself with as she still was dressed in rags, but Alysane Mormont had saved him of the act herself. Val had asked Jon why they treated her in such a manner if they didn't mean to kill her and he unfortunately couldn't give her an answer. "He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death, and it's not up to me what happens to him when we take Winterfell."

Asha had grimaced as a cold wind blew through them and bundled herself in the furs tighter. "Are we going to your bloody Winterfell yet?"

"We are." Jon had wanted to free more castles from the Ironborn to consolidate their power, but he knew that he couldn't leave Arya in that monster's hands any longer. "And it may mean little to you, but I'm not going to Winterfell to get vengeance on your brother. I'm going to save my sister."

It did seem to pique her interest. "I can you respect that love for your family, which is why I'm begging you show my brother one last mercy."

That flared Jon's anger and he wanted her to know it. "What is it you're asking of me? To just let your brother go on his merry way back to Pyke after all he's done?"

"No, he must pay for the mistakes he's made I know that. But I ask that you give him a quick death," She climbed on her hands and knees over to the bars of the cage and got as close to Jon as possible. "Please let my little brother die painlessly."

Alysane had been listening silently to their conversion from the front of the cart which she drove, but she couldn't help herself now. "Are you so daft? He doesn't have a choice in this matter, so leave him be."

"He has your King over a barrel and everyone knows it. If he demanded to bed his wife and witch together, he would simply pout and grind his teeth before relenting because he knows where Jon goes, so do the Northmen. Admit it yourself, if Jon left today would you not follow him?" Her words bit fierce and hard, but both Jon and Alysane knew they rang the truth.

Jon looked to Alysane who still held her back to them, and he noticed she hesitated before answering. "We follow the Starks, not the Baratheons it's true. But where Jon leads us we will follow, as it has always been. Wouldn't your own bannermen say the same?"

"No, we Ironborn follow the strong and worthy amongst us. We have no blind loyalty to anyone or anything like family names." Her words sounded as if she was a Wildling to Jon, but he knew the truth that the Ironborn do not always follow the worthy or strong, for if they did then they would have known it was folly attempting to take the North.

"And yet you Greyjoys have ruled the Iron Islands since the Dragon Kings united us. Do you mean to tell me everyone of your ancestors since then have been great reavers or warriors? No they weren't, even if you might think they were. The truth is that they followed your house because they respected the acts and actions that your family once did and out of the most valuable commodity in this world ... respect." As she said the word 'respect', Jon felt his stomach flutter in angst. "And we Mormont's were given Bear Island by the Starks after they saved the island from your ancestors. We remember our friends just as they remember us, and just like my house words say; here we stand. So will I stand with my friends against all and every enemy."

If Jon didn't know that Alysane was completely honest and loyal to him, he would known there.  _They all believe in me, and I can't let them down._ Jon told himself again just as he had every night before sleep took him.

Asha seemed to be thinking hard on the words she had said and it was good while longer before she finally opened her mouth to speak again, and this time it was directed at Alysane. "You said the greatest treasure in the world was respect ... how could you possibly believe that to be true?"

The She-bear focused on the snow covered trail she was leading the cart over and didn't look back to converse with Asha. "I said the greatest commodity was respect, not treasure. No, the greatest treasure in this world to any sensible man or woman is their child." Jon knew there was truth in Alysane's words as he remembered Aemon telling him of the same thing.

The Greyjoy woman found humor in that and let everyone in earshot know it. "Children are for men who want to continue their lineage, and the only women who enjoy that prospect have no ambition or courage."

"I have two children, and yet here I am, leading troops and killing my enemies. Would you dare to say I lack courage?" Alysane asked in a provoking manner, as if she wished for another argument with Asha.

But thankfully Asha resumed her silence, and Jon bid his farewell to the women and sped his courser further up the line. It took him a while, but he spotted Black Donnel struggling to keep his own steed straight. "You need to loosen up on the reins, you're making him nervous." Jon advised his younger friend.

He had to suppress a smile when he saw the look of excitement on Donnel's face when he heard Jon's voice. "I wondered where you were. I wanted to ride with you."

"I was speaking with Alysane Mormont," Despite his advice, Donnel still held the reins too hard. "I'm warning you, if you don't loosen up he'll buck you off."

He seemed to listen then and nearly released the reins all together. "Is that better?" He asked.

Jon chuckled and shook his head. "A little tighter than that and you'll be fine." Despite being nearly three years younger than himself, Jon found he was still naive in many ways. Donnel had told Jon before they left Deepwood Motte that he had never rode a horse before, but Jon had promised that he would teach him.  _And he's a rather slow learner, we're not even riding just walking them and he still is timid._

Donnel seemed to get the grip correct then, but Jon knew he would forget soon anyhow. "How was the She-bear?"

"The She-bear ... was fine. We were talking with her prisoner." Jon knew that Donnel was afraid of the women, despite the fact that he outweighed her and was bigger in every way.

The Flint boy's cheeks seemed to flush under his growing stubble then. "The Ironborn leader, she's rather pretty. A bit foul mouthed, but so was my older brother." Jon had heard that Donnel wasn't always the heir and that he had an older brother who went hunting years ago and never returned. Big Bucket Wull had told Jon that Donnel had nearly eight dead brothers who were ahead of him in the line and that all had different mothers.

"She's dangerous," Jon warned Donnel, even though it was probably unnecessary he also knew that Donnel was only four and ten and could be seduced by girls he found pretty. "Best stay away from her, not that you should have any reason to go near her anyway."

Donnel picked the accusation out of Jon's words, although it did take him longer than it should have. "I wasn't gonna do anything with her. What do you take me for?"

 _A young and foolish boy, just like I was at your age._ "Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you understood was all." Jon knew that it served no real purpose to continue this, and he hoped that Donnel's fear of Alysane would keep him clear of the Kraken's Daughter. "Alysane told me you were betrothed to her younger sister Lyra."

"And what of it?" Jon could tell that Donnel was either angry or scared about being betrothed, maybe both.

Jon smirked at Donnel to try to calm the boy's growing temper and it worked when Donnel himself cracked into a smile. "I just thought maybe you'd like to speak about it." Jon chuckled and was relieved that Donnel added his own laugh.

"It's how things are done my Father said. And I'll marry who ever he tells me to I will." His voice contained audible hesitation and Jon picked up on it.

"From what I know about you, you need a strong women to teach you what's what. I can only beat so much wisdom into that thick head of yours myself." Jon japed, but knew that Donnel wasn't the cleverest of sorts and he could use a strong and willful women beside him, which according to Alysane was what all of her sisters were.

Donnel shook his head and Jon noted he loosened his grip on the reins again. "What makes you think any women could do that to me? You can, but you got that magic sword."

Jon knew that he meant Longclaw, even though he never used anything but a practice sword on Donnel. "You think that women can't best men? Maybe I should go tell the She-bear that or Val, I'm sure they would both enjoy hearing that. And soon after they'd find you and knock you into the dirt I'm sure."

As he brought up Alysane, Donnel shrunk back in his saddle. "What happens does." He put up a brave face, and Jon almost wanted to test that resolve. "About that wildling girl with you. Are you two married?"

Jon wished he hadn't brung up Val then, as it still had been very tense between them. They would share tent together, but they both would sleep on opposite sides.  _Just take her and she won't even know what or who she was. Your not a man of the Wall anymore, you have nothing to be ashamed of._ Robb's voice had told him every night when he would steal the brief peek at her, usually she was with a mass of white fur that curled up besides her.  _She'll love you for it boy._ Tormund's voice would tell him and he sometimes wondered if she was waiting for him. "No we're not married." Jon informed Donnel who then accepted his word and returned his vision to the road ahead. "We just share a tent is all."

"Your wolf knows what you want better then you." Donnel had cheekily snuck in under his breath.

But it wasn't quiet enough for Jon to miss. "Aren't you bold today? Challenging Alysane's fighting prowess and your Lord's own word in one day."

"Don't mind me, I was just talking to meself." Donnel's smirk betrayed him, but Jon was happy they could speak so freely with each other.

Jon had rode with Donnel the rest of the day and when they stopped, Jon had even recognized the area they were camping at despite the heavy snow.  _We can only be about three days from Winterfell._ Jon had mused while he set up his tent.  _I'll be there soon Arya, just hang on and you'll be safe._ Jon had still taken a sense of perverse pleasure in knowing that he would end Ramsay Bolton soon.  _And for Robb and even his mother. I'll end Roose if I get the chance._ Jon knew that he would demand Stannis allow him to kill the Boltons and he doubted Stannis would object at all.

"Do you need help?" Asked the voice Jon feared more than anyone's.

He turned and saw Val standing over him wearing her heavy white bear cloak and she had even worn her hair in a braid and had her weirwood brooch on. And as he opened his mouth to respond, he made sure he avoided her pale grey eyes that seemed to study him. "I've got it. Go get warmed up at a fire and it should be finished when you get back." Jon promised her and turned back to the stake he was attempting to drive into the frozen ground.

"And if I help it will go faster." She told him and then walked over to the next corner and begin working the stake into the ground. "You seem distracted."

Jon didn't want to risk looking at her in case she was looking at him, so he held his head. "I'm fine." He slowly turned his head and saw her pushing the stake into the ground, but she looked to be struggling herself. "You shouldn't bother yourself with it, I can do it for you."

Just then Val had slipped her knife from her boot, and Jon noticed she had planted the stake just enough for it to stand on it's own. "Do you think so little of me?" She then used the pommel of her blade to drive the stake through the loop and into the dirt.

"Sorry." Was his simple response and then he directed all his strength into the stake, which drove it through the icy surface of the ground. "I hope he hasn't been a bother to you."

Val reached over to Ghost and rubbed under his chin. "Why would he be a bother to me Lord Stark? He's warm in the night and offers dissuasion to any who think of trying to steal me."

"Has anyone been troubling you?" Jon asked and then the visage of Godry Farring confident smile crossed through his mind.

She chuckled and her honey colored braid fell over her shoulder. "Pity them if any do, for they will know their folly if they try to sneak into our tent."

Jon then felt a shiver go up his back when she said 'our tent' and he hoped she couldn't see his face for he knew it would betray him. "I suppose Ghost is saving them in a way then. And I'd be there as well if needed."

Val had stood up from her knees and walked to Jon gracefully and he wondered to himself how any sight could be so perfect. "Would you mean to stop any who tried?"

"If you wished for me to." Was all Jon could manage as he felt Val's warm breath tickle the back of his neck.

"And what of you Lord Stark? Will you try to sneak into my bed one of these nights? You wouldn't have to carry me far ... or at all if you consider our tent solely yours." Jon could feel warmth gathering in his lower region and knew he couldn't stand it anymore.

So he stood up from the ground and began tying the furs to the tent to insulate it. "Not if you still mean to geld me." He said while trying to lighten the almost suffocating atmosphere.

"Everyone says that you are the last of your bloodline. I think it would be exciting for you, imagine ... just one slip up and my knife would cut your balls off and the Starks would be extinct." She stepped up to him and forced him against the tent. "And if you moved the wrong way it could take your cock off too." Jon then had felt his legs go numb, like he was some green boy at his first whorehouse when he felt Val grab him below. "Or ... I could toss my blade away and give you all of me, and I would give you sons and daughters to inhabit your Winterfell." As quick as she had touched him she retreated her hand from him. "But only if you dare to risk it." She had been even faster than before as her warm lips brushed against his cheek for what felt like an eternity, and he stood there dumbstruck and unmoving.

When her lips finally left him, she turned and gracefully walked away towards the bulk of the camp with Ghost padding behind her every step. "Seven hells." Jon sputtered out as his now ragged breathing resumed.  _She's not making this easier._ Jon readjusted his breeches to relieve his tension and went back to work on the tent. "Why do they always have to be so." He complained to himself as his head was filled with interactions he's had with the two women of his life.  _Would she approve?_ Jon wondered as he finished his knot.  _Best steal her quick._ Tormund reminded him from somewhere. Jon had went into the tent with their bed rolls and thought of putting them in their usual opposing corners.  _She threatens to geld every man who looks at her, yet she says those words to me._ He had wanted to set them close, but remembered the bone knife that always swung at her hip and knew better than to push his luck in that bold of a fashion.

In that moment Jon missed Sam for he would be an understanding person to speak with, and even Ser Justin would have been good enough for this. But Jon knew Justin was travelling to Braavos with the Banker Tycho Nestoris to get the truth about this Aegon Targaryen and to hopefully get the coin to hire mercenaries.  _You and I made a deal, and now you mean to tell me it's no longer valid?_ Stannis had been furious at the Banker and had good cause to be. He had counted on that coin and Tycho had approached them himself to negotiate the crown's debt onto Stannis.

 _We'll get the truth of this in time, I suppose._ Jon knew that it would be at the very least a month before any worthwhile information reached them.  _And Arya will be safe and sound then._ Jon told himself and then felt another cool breeze flow through the tent and he knew he hadn't finished his job yet. "The sooner you finish, the sooner it's finished." Jon told himself and went back to work on their tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.


	23. Old Harren's Hall

Tyrion:

 

"The Ironborn are attacking the Reach." Tyrion muttered as he read the letter which had arrived that morning. "My sister has demanded a trial by combat." He looked around the room and noted that only Harlys would meet his gaze as the others either stared into their cups or at their feet. "And last but certainly not least, my cousin Daven Lannister is leading an army this way of two thousand Westermen and is being backed by two thousand more Freys."

"We have more." William Mooton exclaimed, and then retreated his way back into his goblet as all eyes drew to him.

Bennard Brune the head of the knightly cadet house of Brownhollow, grunted out. "And they're starving already and the winter snows have barely fallen yet. If you don't want to meet them on the field, we could hold out three times what they could. If you cousin tried to siege us out, we'd smash him all the same."

"But we will need to be as fresh and strong looking as possible if we mean to sway this lord and that lord to our cause." Was the sound advice of Artor Crabb the heir of the infirm Lord of the ruined Whispers. While they may live very pauper to most other lords, their lands were still large and they held many villages under them.

Tarnar Hogg a third cousin of the main branch of Hogg, seemed to find his courage then. "We can't defend a castle of this size with only six thousand. The walls are far too long and the castle is much too big, maybe if we hadn't split ourselves we could have held it, but not now. They would find a way and in and then it would be anarchy."

Tyrion thought it was time someone realized that truth, so he regained order of the war council. "Ser Tarnar is correct. Harrenhal is far too large for us to garrison properly, and they would find a way in just as we did ourselves." When their army had come up the river road the small garrison of the mighty fortress had closed the gate and mounted the walls. Ser Bonifer and his holy hundred had attempted a defense, but it was folly and they were overrun within the hour. "The King has deemed this plan the right one and as such we must do our part in his place, so what will we do?" Tyrion asked.

As all noble men shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders, Harlys lifted a finger to gain the attention of the table. "We will ambush them." In that moment Tyrion was happy Aegon had kept the Bright Banners with Tyrion, and took Branton and the Stormbreakers with himself.

"Yes." Tyrion exclaimed and pointed to Harroway's Town on the map that was unraveled in the table. "We will set the ambush there. Lord Roote has seen cause to side with our enemies, so we will be within our right to seize his town. Then we will coerce his no doubt starving townsfolk with the premise of food to abandon the town for Harrenhal."  _Just as Aegon plans to do with the rest of the Riverlands._ Tyrion knew that long term it would cause problems as the debt incurred by the end of the war would be astronomical. Aegon had negotiated a deal of food shipments to arrive from the Braavosi free of immediate charge on the clause that when he took the Seven Kingdoms that Braavos would suffer no tariffs or taxes on any of their vessels until him or his descendants had payed for all of the food the Kingdoms would receive. After they had left the Sealord's palace Tyrion remembered Aegon mentioning.  _This will no doubt outlast both of us and our children unless I'm blessed with a Jaehaerys or Alysanne._  And Tyrion couldn't help but be reminded that they were the Conqueror's grandchildren not his children.

"The King should have stayed this course." William Mooton complained into his wine, and Tyrion felt he was right in his way.

 _I will take the East and do what no man before me has ever done._ Aegon had told Tyrion before he left on his Dark along with Alan Hardy, Branton, Edric Storm who was serving as Aegon's squire, and the Boulderfist Brune. Tyrion knew that Aegon always danced to close to the flames and danger. For such a calm figure it seemed odd, but felt right for Aegon. It had been reinforced by the story of Aegon as a child, Marwyn had told him that he had gotten to the age where he wanted a pet, so Marwyn offered cats, dogs, fawns, and birds for him, but he turned them all down and demanded a shadow cat as was his way. 

 _It was a ludicrous request, but I saw a lesson waiting to be taught._ Marwyn told Tyrion and then of how he had one captured from the Vale. It was a tiny bundle of fur when he had given it to Aegon, and Marwyn reflected on how Aegon's face lit up upon snuggling the cub to his body, and how tired he was the next day as the thing wouldn't let him sleep. He spent nearly two years with it faithfully by his side until it started to turn wild and aggressive towards others, and Aegon would make excuses and apologize for the wrongs it would do. But one day it had bitten a coal boy's three fingers off and the boy had nearly died.  _You will be a king one day, and you must learn this lesson and learn it well. You cannot make excuses for those you love and must judge all equally and fairly and I know will be hard, but you must punish those you love if you mean to be fair and just._ Marwyn had then given him a blade before shoving him into the room where they had locked the cat in. Tyrion had asked if it had hurt him, but Marwyn informed him that Aegon came back moments later with it in his hands and he told them that he needed to bury it.  _And the next day Aegon went before the coal boy and given him his own sword and a bag of silver for his folly in trusting a wild animal._

"The King will do as he pleases and as a Lord you must and will follow his discretion." Tyrion warned simply as he couldn't allow any doubts to be risen yet. "You should take this as a compliment, after all he is trusting all of you with the better half of his forces. So you would do well to live up to the expectations he has of you."

"I will never let his Grace down." Tarnar Hogg said with pound of his hand which nearly toppled his and Ser Brune's goblets. "I will volunteer myself to lead this ambush."

William Mooton seemed to agree with that proposition. "I think that would serve us well, Ser Hogg does have the most experience at war of us all."

 _Such a craven._ Tyrion muttered to himself, and he felt sure Lord Mooton would be pleased with anyone leading besides himself.  _I'm sure if I offered for anyone else he would have agreed all the same._

"I'm quite sure he hasn't lead more battles then myself, with all due respect to you." Harlys responded and bowed his head to further prove his point.

"Are you suggesting that you, a sellsword lead our troops in this matter?" Asked Artor Crabb.

Harlys shook his head. "No, I was just informing the council that I have lead men into war one hundred and eighty seven times to date. And I'm sure Lord Tyrion wants for me to prepare the ambush, not lead it."

The table turned their attention to Tyrion and he relented. "I do, you have experience in that manner and so do your Bright Banners. No offence meant to any of your soldiers, but they don't know how to effectively dig murder holes or how to sow the ground with pitch lines. Companies like the Bright Banners train in this and have been doing it for years."

"Fine." Ser Hogg spat and then took a swig of his wine. "So who will lead the troops?"

Tyrion cleared his throat and looked to Bennard Brune. "I believe Ser Bennard would fare well. We won't be able to charge our cavalry into the town with our traps still about and he has the most experience on foot." He noted the look of anger on Ser Hogg's face so he quickly continued. "And since I don't imagine the entire army will fit into Harroway's Town, the bulk of the fighting will be in the fields and forests surrounding the area, and for that Ser Hogg will lead our men." Tyrion then turned William and made sure he wasn't left out, lest he take offence. "And I will give you discretion to follow anyone you see fit, Lord Mooton."

"You are most gracious, Lord Tyrion." William seemed to be happy with that news, and Tyrion guessed which ever camp the fought for he would be firmly in the back.

Tyrion finished his last matter. "Now, we have two weeks before they will be here. So I trust you will all work as hard as you can." All men agreed and with that Tyrion dismissed them. After he was sure that none would be coming back to speak with him, Tyrion took his leave of the room and saw his guards supplied by the Pynes who were waiting for his command. "To the dungeons." He told them and they followed dutifully after him.  _Now for my own business._ Tyrion was desperate for news on his brother and he knew their newest captive had some news to share. After leaving the Kingspyre tower he walked along the stone bridge that connected to Widow's tower, and which was were they held their captives from when they took Harrenhal.

"Do you mean to see the captives, M'lord Lannister?" Asked the gaoler who had pale blond hair pulled back that nearly reached his waist and a bald spot on the top of his head.

"Only one," Tyrion responded as the gaoler fiddled with the key to the cell door. "Has he been any trouble?" Tyrion doubted it, but felt compelled to ask.

"No, he's been quiet. He just eats and prays is all, and I never hear him make a sound." That sounded like what Tyrion thought it would be.

After the door swung open, Tyrion stopped his guards and followed the gaoler solely underground who lead the way with a torch. "Have you been bringing him back up for fresh air like I asked?"

He nodded. "I have, and I take him for walks around the courtyard just like you asked of me, M'lord." They round two corners and then descend another flight of stairs before the gaoler stopped at a set of rusty iron bars. "Here he is." The gaoler then unlocked the door and let Tyrion in. "Would you like me to stay?"

Tyrion struggled to adjust his eyes to the deep darkness, but he saw the outlines of the man's stern and sad face. "I'll be fine, just leave the torch and wait around the corner. I shan't be long." The gaoler obeyed and dropped the torch into the wall holder. After he had left Tyrion could see the man better in the light of the torch. "Are you wounded Ser?" The man shook his head and stood up from the wall he was against. "Do you know who I am?"

"I do, and I know that the Gods are just and you will burn in the seven hells for your sins." There was what Tyrion was waiting for.

"Good that you seem to remember me for the sins I never committed Ser Bonifer." Tyrion knew him to be a religious fanatic and very pious. "I trust you have been treated well?"

Bonifer nodded. "They feed me and let me see sunlight. It could be far worse and the Mother willing my men will stay safe."

 _I assure you that's me as well._ "Do you know why I'm here?"

"No, but I do wish you wouldn't be."

Tyrion chuckled at how ruthlessly blunt this man was. "I'll leave as soon as I get my answers from you. Now tell me, when was the last time you saw my brother Jaime?"

"Why would I tell you Kinslayer, do you wish to end another of your bloodline? No you don't deserve any cooperation, only the sword for your crimes." His disgust was audible and it then started to annoy Tyrion.

"Because regardless of what your faith would make you believe, I'm the one who will decide your soldiers' fate. So you can pray all you wish to, but unless you tell me what I want to know they will start dying." To prove his point Tyrion reached for the torch as if to leave.

"You are a true monster among men. We surrendered when we knew it was hopeless to spare lives and you threaten them now?" He seemed desperate for Tyrion to tell him he wasn't serious, but Tyrion knew he couldn't. "Fine, you'll have your answer if you swear to the Seven that you won't harm my men."

Tyrion knew that his smirk was wide and he knew that it would anger Bonifer. "If you think me so godless then what would stop me from lying to you?" Tyrion felt he risked too much there, but couldn't help himself.

"Because I believe in my Gods, and I believe they will strike you down if you lie here." Bonifer face showed his honesty and it spoke of desperation on his part.

"By the Seven, I Tyrion Lannister swear that no harm will come to your Holy Hundred." He closed his eyes to add good measure to his word, and even though he had no intention of going back on his word, he knew that Bonifer needed some convincing.

The tall and thin man seemed to reflect on Tyrion's words for a while before he shut his eyes and bowed his head in resignation. "I saw him nearly fours months ago, he was moving towards Riverrun to end the siege there. Where he went from there, I confess I do not know."

 _Jaime can't be leading the host that is coming towards us, and we were assured it was Daven leading them. If Jaime was leading then he would have sent word to me himself and tried to talk me out of this no doubt._ "And after he ended the siege of Riverrun and Raventree Hall he went missing ... I was hoping you would have had knowledge of his whereabouts. Well I've taken up enough of your time, so go back to your prayer and maybe the Warrior himself will be here to save you one of these days." Tyrion then removed the torch and turned to leave the cell.

"Stranger take you if you break your oath Lannister. The Gods will have their vengeance for your crimes I know it." His voice was like steel, but Tyrion felt none of it's bite.

Tyrion couldn't help himself and turned back to Bonifer who was now obscured by the darkness again. "My King is exacting his justice at this very moment," A cruel smile broke on Tyrion's face as he continued. "He's the grandson of a certain Rhaella Targaryen. The same Rhaella Targaryen, who if rumors are to be believed was once in love with a knight of low birth who named her his Queen of Love and Beauty." After no response came back, Tyrion pushed harder. "But it was always an impossibility wasn't it? For she was a princess and he was just a simple landless knight, and after he lost her he just seemed to lose all fondness for life and joy. Resigning himself to a life of prayer and chastity."

"Shut your mouth damn you. Just leave, you got what you wanted from me." Growled Bonifer in anger, and Tyrion knew that if he wasn't chained to the wall he would have moved to attack him.

"Almost Ser, I assure you. After the destruction of his princess' line and the slaughtering of her grandchildren and the exile of her own children, what did he do? Nothing, besides swear himself to those responsible and carry out their will like some dog following a master's command." Tyrion sniffed the musky underground air and let it sink further into the man before he delivered the end. "Is that the thing men do to show their love and devotion? No ... it's what cravens do, Ser."

"Gods damn you to the lowest levels of hell Lannister!" Bonifer roared out in fury and tried to jump at Tyrion, but the chains held strong and restrained him back.

Tyrion knew he had finished this broken man and proven a truth he wouldn't face otherwise. "And just so you know Ser ... I didn't kill Joffrey." Without another word, Tyrion left the cell and shut the door behind him.

Bonifer continued to roar at Tyrion in rage. "You know nothing of me or my love for her! Do you hear me Lannister? Nothing! How dare you utter her name to me! You and your foul mouth have no right to say her name!"

 _And you know nothing of the pains I've suffered myself or the pain I've set on others._ Tyrion then saw the gaoler waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs in complete darkness. Tyrion would have found it eerie if Bonifer wasn't still screaming at him from his cell. "I'm ready to go back now. I got my answer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.


	24. The Vale Stands Strong

Alayne:

 

"Make it stop!" Robert cried out and demanded as another loud crack of thunder echoed through the sky.

Alayne held her Sweetrobin closer to her bosom to protect him. "I can't my sweet. You need not worry for it won't hurt you, not while I'm here." Her words seemed to soothe him as he closed his eyes and snuggled in closer to her in their shared bed.

Robert's voice was slurred and distant, and Alayne could tell his sleep was finding him again. "You promise you won't leave?"

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I won't, now go back to sleep my Sweetrobin." Another loud crack of thunder went loose and to her relief Robert took enough pleasure in being close to her that he either didn't notice or care. Alayne knew she wouldn't find her way to sleep for a little while longer now that she was woken, and she felt it a pity how it stormed when it had been warm enough earlier that the light snow had melt. _A_ _storm is said to bring strife and hardships before a winter, Mya told me._  Alayne couldn't help but watch and wait for the next golden strike to flash outside the window, and she wondered what it could break if it drew closer.  _The Gods are showing their displeasure at us for allowing Petyr, who I will remind you was born from the loins of a Braavosi, to rule over our Lord. And you talk about me marrying his daughter to Harrold?_ Was what the Royce's septon had said to Lord Yohn when he did not think any listened.  _She is a sweet girl, free from Petyr's foulness and you will remember that Harrold can marry who he wishes, and if you won't marry them then I'll find a septon who will._ Yohn's spat back at him and took his leave. _  
_

"Tell me what that man said." Robert asked as his head slipped further into her lap.

"Just go back to sleep and we can talk in the morning." Alayne told him as she wrapped a long strand of his brown hair around her finger. She didn't want to tell him of what that man said, as her Sweetrobin didn't need to worry about some heartless Targaryen King.  _He is a blessing from the God's._ Claimed the traveler in excitement.  _He is feeding and giving justice to every man and women up the Trident, it is folly and foolish to not listen to the God's will._ He had said to her Harry, who despite her urging wouldn't turn from the man and send him away.

"I want you to tell me a story then." Robert demanded and Alayne saw drool was slipping from his mouth onto her nightdress.

 _Of course you do._ Alayne sighed in exhaust as she knew he wouldn't sleep until he heard her voice more. "What story do you want my Sweetrobin?" She asked in her sweetest voice.

"Surprise me."

Alayne had frowned at him then, and after short pause she shook her head in disbelief.  _I have a story, mayhaps I'll tell you of what your beloved Alayne suffers to keep you safe._ "How about the Winged Knight and his wife?" _  
_

Robert weakly shook his head. "No, tell me about the Dragon King. I heard the servants whispering about it, and I'm the Lord of the Vale so I should know everything." Robert was being a brat and he knew it.

"I said no." Was Alayne's frustrated and blunt response. After she said it she couldn't believe she actually did and neither could her Sweetrobin as he lifted his head to look at her. "You don't need to worry yourself over him, my father and betrothed will deal with him for you I promise."  _Please Sweetrobin._

"You don't need to marry him." Sweetrobin muttered in anger. Alayne knew that he got jealous anytime her attention was not on him and even more so if it was on other men. "I could marry you and become the second Winged Knight and then we'd fly back to the Eyrie on my falcon."

Alayne felt the need to kiss him and gently placed her lips on his forehead again. "My hero." She whispered to him. "My Winged Knight is so strong and kind." Those words made him even happier and made him drop his head back down to his pillow. She was happy that had hushed him and his talks of the Dragon King. 

 _He can't be trusted with yours or Sweetrobin's life, you must poison every exploit Harry hears of him._ Petyr had told her.  _He may seem courageous and heroic now, but don't forget what they say of a Targaryen's wroth. He will be hungering for your blood for your father's participation in overthrowing his family._ Petyr had then placed his hand on her thigh and moved his lips to her ear.  _And I will put my life on the line if I have to, if it means that you'll be safe from him my sweet._ She then felt his tongue touch her ear.  _Do you not love me for all the things I do for you?_ He'd ask and then he would remove his breeches.

"I do." Alayne had muttered out loud and than she looked at her Sweetrobin and was happy that she didn't wake him.  _It tastes foul ... my mother said that I would be a lady and my husband would love and cherish me ... not use me as such._ Alayne felt disgusted with herself and wanted to clean her mouth out again.

 _Yes my sweet daughter ... just like that._ Petyr taunted her as he lead her by her hair.  _Harry will never be able to resist or forget you._ Petyr's hips would then go stiff and he would freeze.  _Quickly use your tongue._ He would demand and then lose himself and she would taste his seed. it had disgusted her to no end and she had wanted to die every time, but lately he had taken to pushing her against a table or wall and then lifted her skirts up.  _Do you love me?_ He ask and she'd fear for what came next. And then as suddenly as it had happened, he would stop and let her go.

"Love." Alayne had muttered in disgust and rolled to her side to cuddle with her Sweetrobin, and soon after she found her sleep too.

Her dreams that night were full of horrors such as her Father's beheading and her escape from King's landing, but they gave way to happier times such as Winterfell and the Hound's kiss and then Harry's first kiss. After they had came and went she felt warmth akin to the heat she would feel near candles in her head as she had the first time Petyr had used her.  _Don't fear for your fate or for your Sweetrobin's ... for you are a Stark of Winterfell and you will survive, because you are my daughter._ Her father's voice had told her, and before she could run to him and hug and kiss him and tell him of how she missed him, he was gone like a breeze of wind.

"Wake up." Robert had urged her as he shook her from her sleep. "It's snowing again." She gently moved his hands away and tried to find her father in her dreams again. "People are screaming at each other." Robert informed her and she then felt the bed shift and she knew he had gotten up.

"Come back to bed." She told him and absentmindedly she patted the spot next to her and thankfully found he didn't soil the bed that night.  _I need to keep making sure he pees before getting in bed._

When Robert didn't answer Alayne lifted her head and wiped the blurriness from her eyes. "What are you doing by the window?" She asked as Robert was on his hands and knees on the padded seat before the window and was looking down at something unseen.

"I told you some men are screaming down there." Robert reminded her as leaned dangerously far out the window.

Alayne threw the coverings off of herself and ran to her Sweetrobin lest he fell. "You shouldn't lean out windows like that." She chided him and then saw and heard what he was talking about.

"He's coming up the Kingsroad and you and Baelish are fools if you think he's not coming here!" Ser Symond Templeton screamed in Ser Lyn Corbray's face. Alayne had also seen that both men had their own allies behind them.

"And what of it? If he means to try to take the Bloody Gate he will break against it like all those that came before him!" Screamed back Lyn and his voice hid none of his disgust at Symond's cowardliness.

Lord Eyan Egen stepped in between both men to stop blows from coming. "But why should we deny ourselves to him? We should negotiate with him at the Bloody Gate and see what terms he offers us, if they are not favorable then we tell him to go bugger himself. But we shouldn't shun him before then."

Ser Lyn's hand went to his valyrian steel sword, but thankfully he didn't draw it. "Lord Baelish is acting regent and he has ordered that we give no terms to the bastards. If you have found a problem with that then I suggest you all request a meeting with him and he'll discuss why this is the best course of action in small words that even you can understand Ser Symond."

That set Ser Templeton off and he pointed down at Ser Lyn's sword hand. "He even threatens me bodily harm simply because I say my peace. What kind of fucking house have the Arryns become where they threaten their vassals like this?" He then turned to his household guard which backed him up. "I say we charge into that bloody castle and drag Baelish out and make him tell us those small words as this cunt puts it."

Ser Corbray then drew Lady Forlorn and pointed it at the group and Petyr Baelish's household guard backed him up and did the same. "If you mean to die today Ser, then look no further than my blade."

Alayne had grabbed her Sweetrobin by the shoulder and meant to pull him away from the coming carnage, but thankfully another voice added itself. "My friends, please stay your blades." Harry pleaded with them.

"I'm sorry Harrold, but I won't let this great house of Arryn slip further into darkness and despair. Petyr Baelish will forfeit his regency to the Lords Declarant on this day or I will force him, by sword point if need be." Ser Templeton stepped forward and drew his longsword.

"Do you mean to break guest rights my Lord?" Harry asked in confusion.

Ser Templeton didn't take his eyes off of Lady Forlorn, but chuckled out. "What do guest rights mean anymore? If we mean to stay with the bloody Lannisters I don't see the point."

"It means as much as we make them, Ser. We are standing in the birthplace of the Seven and you mean to break their traditions? No you are better then that Ser ... now I beg you to sheath your sword." Harry's voice was firm and sure as he paced to Ser Lyn Corbray's side. "And if you mean to start with someone then look no further than me." And with that Harry drew his own blade.

The loud and booming voice of Lord Yohn Royce rang out. "Put your sword away boy, you're still as green as fresh spring grass for anything like this." Lord Royce warned Harry and without fear for his own safety he walked between the groups and pulled Harry out of the conflict by his shoulders. After tossing Harry against a far wall, Lord Royce turned back to the other men. "And what are you doing Knight o' Ninestars? We agreed to give Lord Baelish one year of regency."

"We can't waste anymore time Royce, this needs to be done today. I will not let the Vale suffer the same fate as the Riverlands, we will parley with this Aegon Targaryen and if you don't mean to stand with me then stand aside, for not even your magic armor will stop me on this day." Ser Templeton pointed his blade at Yohn who was not dressed in his bronze armor, but in boiled leather and furs.

Lord Royce didn't seem to register the threat as he pushed the tip of the blade away from his chest. "And what would you do then? March into the castle slaying all you came across til you found Lord Baelish? And what if Lord Arryn said that he didn't want to support Aegon Targaryen, would you slay him too and declare Harrold as the new Lord?" Lord Yohn Royce moved closer to the Ser and grabbed him by the shoulders as if to shake him from this lunacy. "And Harry himself is preaching for peace, would you slay him thereafter and declare yourself Lord of the Vale?"

"Of course I wouldn't." Ser Templeton muttered as if defending himself and then his sword started to droop in his hand.

Lord Royce took the sword from Templeton's limp hand and nodded. "You wouldn't, and that's because you're a good and loyal man. Now just have patience and everything will sort itself my friend. I swear to you."

"What is going on here my Lords?" Asked Petyr as he finally found his way into the courtyard with no less than eight guards and Ser Lothor Brune. "Please put your swords away." He asked of them and most did, besides Ser Lyn who still had his sword pointed at the Knight of Ninestars.

"He speaks of treachery and I will not allow any threats to be made upon good Lord Robert's life." Responded the knight of Lady Forlorn.

It was Petyr's turn to step between the fray and he did. "No one is speaking of that I assure you Ser. Now please sheath your blade and we can all go discuss this in private ... without blades if you will." Lord Yohn Royce seemed to have a handle on Ser Templeton and Alayne knew that Ser Corbray must have been putting on a show of loyalty to Robert for she knew he was firmly behind Petyr, and only cared about her Sweetrobin in the utmost of wrong ways.

"Lets go get break our fast." Alayne told her Sweetrobin and pulled him from the window overlooking the conflict. "What does my strong Lord want this morning?"

Sweetrobin seemed confused on what happened and she knew that he wouldn't understand regardless of how hard he tried. "I want lemon cakes with sweet cream." He exclaimed and squeezed her hand in excitement.

Alayne chuckled and shook her head. "Only if you eat a proper meal first. How about some boiled oats with blueberries and a bit of pork sausage?" She asked him as she brushed his hair out of his face and she knew that she would have to come up with some way to trim it as it currently was longer than her own and trailed to the back of his thighs.

"Fine, but I want two lemon cakes with lots of cream then."

She knew that there was no way his small body could handle all that food and she doubted he would even be able to eat a half of the first cake after. "If that is what you wish." She noted that the mess hall was very quiet and besides Sweetrobin it was empty. She had managed to make him finish his bowl of oats and half of his sausage before he wouldn't eat more, while Alayne herself had eaten a bowl of sliced apples sprinkled with cinnamon along with a cup of iced milk sweetened with molasses.

As they were leaving the hall, Harrold had found them and Myranda was trailing behind him and she did her best to keep up with his stride. "Your father has requested both of us." He said in a hurried voice and Alayne could tell he was tense.

"Are you well?" She asked as she placed the back of her hand to his cheek and he seemed to tense harder when she touched him.

Myranda held her hand out to Robert and called for him. "Come with me my Sweet. We can go play with some of your toys while she's gone. You can be the Winged Knight and I can be the maiden that needs saving."

Robert didn't have any time to argue before Harry had pulled Alayne away rougher then she thought necessary. "I'll be back soon, now just have fun with Myranda." Alayne called as Harry pulled her around a corner, and after they had gotten far enough out of earshot she stopped her feet and held strong. "What's happening?" She asked him, but he ignored her and continued pulling at her arm. "You're hurting me, now let me go." She demanded and he seemed to be in shock as he dropped her arm.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He then gently kissed her hand and looped her arm around his own. "Your father just needs to speak with us right now."

Alayne touched his cheek and smiled at him. "I know you didn't my love, but what does he want?"

Harry looked around the empty hall and shook his head. "We can't talk about it here ... others might be listening." He then moved her along towards Petyr's chambers. "It's about Aegon Targaryen is all I can tell you for now."

 _Him again._ Alayne lips pursed in disgust, but she held close to Harry as he led her to Petyr's sitting room. "You were very brave this morning." She muttered under her breath as she rested her head against his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you standing up to Ser Symond Templeton this morn, you were so very brave and you weren't even afraid when he pointed his sword at you."

Harry chuckled and Alayne would bet anything that his dimples were showing. "It had to be done. I understand where he is coming from, but he has to see reason and at least hear your father out." As he said 'her father', Alayne noted a change in his tone. "We don't keep secrets from each other do we?"

"Of course not," Alayne lied. "You can tell me anything you wish and I'll always keep your secrets just like I know you always keep mine." Alayne played with his larger hand and found it funny how small her hand looked in his palm.

"I didn't think so." He muttered under his breath. "Sorry for bringing it up, but Lord Royce has been giving me talks of how to be a good husband of late. You know he does like you more than you think he does?He made sure that I knew that if I stepped out of our marital bed after we're married he would thrash me and make me wish I never reached manhood."

 _He has been friendly of late, maybe he just had a prickly exterior ... or more likely he wants something from Alayne or Petyr._ Sansa shivered in disgust at the thought of Lord Royce lusting over her, but knew he probably did. "Then it sounds like I have an ally in the Lord Royce, for if you even think of other women after we're married I'll remove that manhood of yours myself." She then pulled his face to her's and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips right before Petyr's door and she hoped in her heart that Petyr was watching.  _This is the man I love, and this is the only man I'll let have me._ She bragged to him although she knew he couldn't hear her. "So just remember that." She hushed after their lips broke.

Harry's dimples were indeed showing and Alayne desperately wanted to kiss him again. "I will." He then opened the door and ushered her in.

Petyr was at his writing table and looked up as they entered. "Ah good you're both here." He then stood and grabbed a flagon of what Alayne presumed was wine. "Please sit, we don't have much time."

"Whats happening?" Alayne asked as she took the far left seat next to Harry who was in the middle.

Petyr gave one lasting look at her and she saw that same gleam in his eyes that she feared. "Chaos ... simple chaos and not the kind that we can use to our advantage."

"Many of the Lords are pulling at their leashes to go join themselves to Aegon. A lot of them are just scared and fear the inevitable will happen like when Aegon the Conqueror came with his dragons." Harry added in and took a cup from Petyr and handed it out to Alayne.

She shook her head and denied it as she knew she needed a clear head. "But he doesn't have dragons and we have the Bloody Gate to stop him. So what are they scared of?"

"He has something almost as terrifying as dragons. Religious fanatics and peasants who are declaring him a gift from the Gods." Petyr poured himself a cup and took the far seat on the right.

Alayne didn't understand and asked. "Why?"

Harry took a sip of the cup he had offered her and explained. "He's bringing food in from Essos to feed the people. Many of the smallfolk see the food as coming from the Gods and know that where he goes so does the food, that will undoubtedly save many this winter." Harry reached down and wove his fingers between hers. "And you heard Ser Templeton this morn yourself."

"He's coming up the Kingsroad on the shoulders of the smallfolk like some hero reborn." Petyr added and then after waited for Alayne's response.

Sansa felt anger at how quickly the people of the Riverlands could just move on and forget about her brother, for this new King. "I thought that the faithful considered incest unholy and a crime against the Gods? Weren't Aegon Targaryen's grandparents brother and sister?"

"In the worst of times the Targaryen's were considered unholy abominations, but in the best of times the smallfolk considered them Gods made flesh. Their customs were always considered queer and that also served to make them seem exotic and almost otherworldly." Petyr explained to her.

"So what will we do then? We can't open the Gates." Alayne had said in a panic. "You told me that-"

She had forgotten herself and would have spilled her secrets in front of Harry, if not for Petyr's quick word. "I promise you that I won't let them harm our Sweetrobin, and I don't mean to go back on my word my sweet daughter." Petyr looked to Harry who was still losing himself in his cup. "Do you care to explain for her?"

"We've sent Lord Royce and his one thousand men to enforce the Bloody Gate,"

 _Have you all taken leave of your wits?_ Sansa had wanted to scream at them, but Alayne reminded them. "He was one of Sweetrobin's biggest detractors. It can't be safe to let him maintain the greatest defense we have."

"And we've sent Ser Lyn Corbray with two thousand of our own to defend the Gate and keep an eye on Lord Royce." Petyr finished for Harry. "And if he even breathes a peep of treachery, I've given Ser Lyn the authority to cut him down." Petyr got up from his chair and crouched in front of Alayne, where not two nights past he had forced her on her knees. "So do you see my darling daughter? We won't let this dragon harm our Sweetrobin."

"And what about Ser Templeton? He wanted to surrender us to this Dragon King, how can we trust him?"

Harry took the word again. "I've sent him and his men back to Ninestars, they won't trouble us any longer and Lord Royce has all but kicked him out of the Lords Declarant. He said that their movement will no longer be need soon as Lord Baelish has done a fine job at preparing the Vale to rejoin the Seven Kingdoms."

Alayne knew that it didn't sound like the Lord Royce she knew, but he had come around to both her and Petyr of late. "He said all that?"

"He did, I was the most pleasantly surprised of all as he said so in front of everyone who would listen." Petyr's grin couldn't have been wider and she knew that all was going like Petyr said it would. "And Lady Waynwood will be returning back to Ironoaks tomorrow to raise her troops in defense of the Vale."

"I thought it best you go with her for your own safety, if the unthinkable happens." Harry said from out of nowhere. "But your father thinks your place is here with me and Sweetrobin."

 _It's because he wants me close at all times._ Sansa admitted to herself and wished that she could have said so out loud, and then proceeded to watch as her Harry pummeled Petyr into the floor for what he had done to her. "I don't want to leave you." Alayne told him.

"I know you don't, no more than I want you to. But for yours and Sweetrobin's safety it may be necessary. I don't know how we could possibly get you to safety in time if they somehow made it over the Bloody Gate."

Petyr let out a sound Alayne thought was laughter, but Sansa knew was anger. "You have no idea how much it warms my heart to see how much you care for my daughter. But I think your affection for her is over clouding reality, and while I do know that our Sweetrobin's health is improving," Alayne almost believed that he cared for her Sweetrobin's health at that moment. "I fear for what a trip to Ironoaks would do to him, especially as it starts to get colder."

Alayne knew that his reasoning was sound and although she would have loved to get herself and Sweetrobin away from Petyr, she knew that he would not allow that under any circumstances. "My father is right, me and Robert will be safe here, especially with you here to protect us." She then leaned over and kissed Harry on the lips and took pleasure in how Petyr must have felt. "I love you more then anything." She muttered loud enough for Petyr to hear as Harry's lips broke from hers.

Harry chuckled and gave Petyr one brief look over his shoulder. "I don't think your father enjoys seeing his daughter in such a way." He then stood and meant to lead Alayne away from the room.

"If you could Harrold, do you mind leaving me and my daughter alone? I think we need to have a discussion." Petyr's voice was sharp and barely hid his cold fury.

 _Please don't._ She silently begged her beloved. "What is it father? I don't know how long Sweetrobin can wait, we both know he goes into shaking spells when I leave him for too long."

"It won't take long, I promise."

Alayne nodded. "As you wish." But as she stepped forward Harry grabbed her by the wrist and stopped her.

"Sorry goodfather, but I must insist. I promised little Robert that I wouldn't steal his Alayne for too long and I don't mean to break it." His voice was steady and booming, and Alayne couldn't help but blush.

The look on Petyr's face had scared her and she was happy that Harry was with her at that moment. "I assure you it won't take long," Petyr had tried to argue.

"And I must insist, Lord Baelish." Harry wasn't budging and Alayne couldn't love him any more at that moment. "After you my Love." He then lead her from the room and she could tell just by how he held his shoulders as they walked that he was tense again.

"Are you alright?" She asked as she snuggled close to him and breathed in his scent that smelled slightly of sweat and warmth.

Harry nodded and held his head forward. "I've just been having nightmares of late is all. Nothing that you did or need to worry about my Love."

 _So strong._ Sansa couldn't help, but realize that this man was her prince all along. "You can tell me anything, we've already talked of this."

His smile was gentle and spoke of love as he looked down at her. "Mayhaps another time, but now we need to get you back to your Sweetrobin, lest he attack Myranda." He chuckled and his dimples flared as he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.
> 
> Off topic, but I had the song Falling Apart by Zebrahead playing in my head while I wrote this chapter and I hadn't thought of that song in years.


	25. The Calm Before the Storm

Tyrion:

 

"I want at least a foot or two in between each line, we need to make sure everyone of the bastards feel the flames." Ordered Commander Harlys as he oversaw his new recruits digging the pitch lines.

Tyrion himself was seated at a war table that was set up before Harroway tower, and he was feasting on a roasted carp while he looked over the possible routes the Lannister and Frey army could take. "Do we have enough pitch?" He asked absentmindedly.

Commander Harlys turned and sat back down at his seat across from Tyrion. "Aye, we have plenty to use and even more left over. The land around here is good for collecting it, as it's still all green and such." The Supreme Commander of the Bright Banners tapped a large clay container of the black substance and japed. "Stuff sticks to everything and everyone, though it will take my boys days to get clean."

"Good, I've already focused the Swann men on rolling balls of grass up here. I trust your men will handle the rest?" Tyrion asked as he lifted his eyes from his maps to take a sip of wine.

Harlys Foros let out a chuckle. "My boys will handle that in no time at all. Just lug the bloody things to the top of the hill, light em and then send em down hill onto our foes."

"That is the plan. It won't kill many, but it will split what ever lines they formed and it will enrage them and hopefully they'll miss the pitch lines until it's too late." Tyrion had read up on this very strategy and of it's inventor years ago and was happy he did. "And what of our secret weapon?" Tyrion asked in a hushed voice as the shadow of the tower fell over them.

"Is that still something you want?" Harlys Foros asked as he leaned in close enough to keep it strictly between them.

Tyrion looked up at the tower and nodded. "I do."

Without another word the Supreme Commander of the Bright Banners stood up from the table and bowed his head. "Then I will ensure it's ready in time. Please excuse me, Lord Tyrion."

Looking around Harroway's Town, Tyrion knew that it would soon be the site of many deaths.  _The horrors of war spare nothing and no one._  All had gone like Tyrion and Aegon had thought it would, and the smallfolk of the town were coerced to flee their homes for Harrenhal at thepromise of food. Although Tyrion and most of them knew the truth that they had no choice and this way at least resulted in no deaths and they could recover their valuables. The septon and septas of the ruined sept were happy enough not to be robbed and have their sept pillaged again. _I will do my absolute best not to harm it, but I can't make promises for my enemies._ Tyrion had told them and the septon had told Tyrion he would pray for the septs safety.

"Could have prayed for my safety." Tyrion japed out loud and he then decided he had sat for long enough. "Bryce, I'm finished with my meal." Tyrion called out to his squire, who was a fourth born son from the second line House Cave. In the small time he had known the boy, Tyrion had wished he had Pod back, as Bryce was thoroughly ruthless and vain and only cared for glory and battle.

"Right away." Bryce Cave said through gritted teeth, as he always hated the less glamorous jobs a squire must do. So as a result, Tyrion always made sure he had many letters that needed carrying and always took no less then three baths a day, which Bryce had to fill and heat for him.

"Oh, and be sure to take care of those maps, you know how I like triangular folds for how easy they are to transport." Tyrion could almost see the boy's face turning red in rage.  _Remember this next time you jape about me and kinslaying, boy._

"Do you fare well my Lord?" Asked Ser Bennard Brune.

Tyrion turned to the voice and saw the thick and muscled Ser walking over to him. "Ah, hello to you. Are your men prepared yet?"

Bennard Brune nodded. "Aye they are, and we could fight right now if we had to. I hope those Bright Banner fellows have the skills they promised." Tyrion knew that many of the Knights and Lords still held resentment over the important job of setting the traps being given off, but Tyrion couldn't help it as he needed to be sure that they were perfect.

"They seem to be handling it quite well." Tyrion responded as they both walked to the army camp established outside of the village. It had nearly doubled in size since the Swann troops added themselves to the army at nearly six thousand men, which was commanded by Ser Ashter Storm; the master-at-arms of Stonehelm. He had sent half his force to Harrenhal to enforce the ruined castle, and with the rest he took Darry in the night and found Amerei Frey abed with Harwyn Plumm in the Lord's bedroom. After he had threatened to behead both and toss their heads off the castle balcony the small Lannister garrison surrendered. 

"Have you gotten word from the king yet?" Ser Bennard asked nonchalantly as he kept his head forward.

Tyrion knew that if served poor for them not to hear word from their king, but Tyrion knew it wouldn't help to lie. "Not of yet, but I'm expecting a letter any day now." And Tyrion hoped it was one of good news, as he knew word of a great victory would bolster their men's morale for the coming battle.

Ser Brune was disheartened by that news, but he didn't let it show. "I'm sure you're right, after all I'm sure my Nuncle won't let him come to any harm." Tyrion felt he was right as Ser Bennard's uncle was the Boulderfist Bryce Brune. When Tyrion had first met the man he knew that the tales did him true justice, as he stood nearly a head taller than Aegon and was thrice as thick, but what truly stood out was his grotesque mass of flesh he called his left hand that nearly was as large as Tyrion's own head. And fate saw it fit to give him greyscale at the age of seven and luckily it did not claim his life, but it did turn his deformity hard as a rock and he was ever since known as the Boulderfist. He had earned several honors as he fought for the Targaryen's like all of the Clawmen did during Robert's Rebellion.

"And have your hunters found any luck on our wolf problem?" Tyrion asked, as that had weighed heavily on his already troubled mind of late. Nearly a week past one of their supply carts was ravaged and the men were killed by what looked to be wolves and the peasants had told stories of a giant wolf that lead a pack of nearly two hundred strong. He would not have believed their tales of a monster wolf if not for the fact he had seen the Stark children's dire wolves all those years ago. Some of the more superstitious talked of the wolf being a manifestation of Robb Stark's vengeance, but Tyrion had heard that the youngest Stark girl's wolf had gone missing before they made it to King's Landing. _  
_

Ser Bennard Brune didn't seem to be very enthused as he responded. "Aye, we tracked them, but they turned west. So we won't be able to send any more out until the battle is over." Tyrion knew that he considered himself a great hunter, as when he heard of the monster wolf he swore that he would kill the beast and present Aegon with the pelt.

"If they're going west then at least they'll leave our supply lines clear and unharassed. Mayhaps the wolves will do us the great favor of ending themselves on our enemies weapons."

"I rather hope the she-wolf leading them lives long enough to find me, as I have just a spear calling for her flesh." Ser Bennard obviously did not want for courage, although Tyrion wondered how it would hold up if he ever met the beast, as rumors said it was near the size of a horse and twice as fast.

"Mayhaps the Gods will reward you good Ser. But I must bid you farewell, as I have words I must share with our guest, Ser Plumm."

Ser Bennard squinted his eyes and nodded his head. "Do you need some help making Ser Softballs squeal? Boy has tight lips from what I've heard."

 _That name will never be forgotten._ Tyrion japed in his head, as Ser Ashter Storm had loudly told and retold the story of how he found Ser Harwyn Plumm naked and dragged him into the cold courtyard with nothing on, and it didn't reflect well on his manhood. "I'm sure I'll have no shortage of helpers there, but thank you, Ser. I'll see you at the council tonight." Ser Brune agreed and turned back up the hill towards the Harroway Tower, and Tyrion did not doubt it was to complain about the work rate of the Bright Banners, and of how he and his own soldiers could do it faster.

It hadn't taken him long to find the circular pen of stakes made for Ser Harwyn Plumm as they had placed it in the center of the camp to be sure he could not stage an escape. Tyrion knew many found amusement at tossing shit and other fouls things at the youngest Plumm to amuse themselves and it sickened his stomach, but he saw no benefit in stopping it.  _The septons would have a fit if they saw him like this, and then after I told them of how he was found they would demand for his judgement and her execution no doubt._ Tyrion could not stop a snicker from rising and he thanked his good fortune that most of the zealots followed Aegon and not himself.

"Lord Lannister." Called out Ser Ashter as he saw Tyrion. "Here to see Plumm balls are you?"

"I am," Tyrion answered and ignored Ser Ashter's joke looked up at the master-at-arms and asked. "Is he well?"

The ordinary looking man smirked and moved out of the way. "Take a look for yourself." He banged the wooden wall with the back of his hand and the whole structure rattled. "Wake yourself, the Hand of the King is here."

Ser Harwyn had seen better times as his copper hair had turned brown with either dirt or dung. Tyrion hoped it was the former, but the smell made him think otherwise. "What do you want, Imp?"

Tyrion stepped closer to the bars and saw that Plumm's hands were bound over his head and they were then in turn tied to the stakes behind him. "I won't waste your time, because we both know that you don't like me and I don't particularly like you. So had you seen my brother before you were captured?"

Thankfully Ser Harwyn Plumm did not seem to be strong enough to want a fight so he answered him quickly. "Last I heard he went to end the siege of Riverrun, and that was months ago."

 _And no doubt from Gatehouse Ami Frey while you fucked her in my cousin's bed._ Tyrion had his answer and almost left, but stopped and remembered another thorn that Tyrion felt they would need to deal with soon. "I remember hearing that you were trying to destroy the Brotherhood Without Banners. Were you ever successful?" Tyrion knew he was not as the rumors of the group still flourished and even more so of haunting tales of a mute called the Hangwoman who led them. Tyrion himself had seen the results of this Hangwoman and saw nearly thirty corpses that swung to and fro from the trees, some had been picked clean by birds, but some still retained their flesh.

Ser Plumm did not try to hide his shame and anger then. "I followed them over the Trident when I heard rumors, but after I did I lost them. They're probably dead already, the bounty on their heads is growing every day and the Frey's are out for revenge for their slain kin."

 _And the Crown spends more and more._ "Pity, but I suppose it saved you from swinging like the rest who went after them. Keep safe, Ser Harwyn. Mayhaps your father will give terms for your release soon." Tyrion then nodded to Ser Ashter that he was finished.

Ser Harwyn was however not finished talking yet. "I bet you find this highly amusing, Imp."

Tyrion didn't turn to look at Knight of house Plumm, but he could see a smirk growing on Ser Ashter's face. "I don't know what you mean?"

"Me in here sitting in my own shit and piss, while you look down on me all clean and such, probably had a meal of lamb not too long ago I bet."

"I don't know about him, but I certainly enjoy seeing such an arrogant prick like yourself in this manner. Made you feel like a real man I imagine when you were cuckolding Lancel Lannister ehh? Man opened his home and castle to you and you fuck his wife in their marital bed." Ser Ashter's voice was loud and teemed with the humor he found.

Ser Harwyn didn't seem to take any shame in how Ashter Storm described the events prior to his capture. "He didn't even consummate their wedding, and she practically dragged me into her bed. So I don't find anything wrong in what I did, and we both enjoyed ourselves."

The master-at-arms of house Swann threw his head back and laughed loud enough for everyone to hear at Riverrun. "You and probably half of the Riverlands from what the rumors tell. Gatehouse Ami opens her legs to the nearest beast with a cock I've heard, maybe Lord Tyrion should go see how she feels for himself?"

"I'd imagine you'll need quite a few men to hold her down, no women in her right senses would like to stare at his face for long let alone let him touch them."

Ser Harwyn Plumm's flippant tone had angered Ser Ashter and he made him know his mistake as he walked over to his bindings and twisted them tightly. "You have any other funny words for me? I could snap those arms of yours like they were twigs." The third born Plumm did his best to not give him the satisfaction of asking for mercy, but it did not last long as surprisingly strong man had lifted him off the ground by his bindings and was still pulling hard and wrenching Harwyn's arms back by the shoulders.

"Enough, my feelings don't hurt that easily." Tyrion didn't care to listen or watch Harwyn Plumm suffer so he left the center of the camp and turned towards his own pavilion. He had nearly been there before a loud and rowdy cheer rang throughout the camp. _Happy_ _they're enjoying themselves._ Tyrion chuckled and gave a polite nod to the guards standing along his red and white pavilion. After he sat down by his center table, he pulled his boots off and looked for a good book to pass the time with.

His peace didn't last long before his squire Bryce Cave flung himself through the opening and nearly tumbled against the table. "Word just arrived!" He panted out in excitement. 

"What is it?" Tyrion asked in desperation as he closed the book.

Before Bryce could answer, Lord William Mooton came jogging through the flaps as fast as he could with two already opened letters in hand. "Word just arrived-"

"I know my squire just told me, now what has happened?" Tyrion asked as pushed his cup of wine into Bryce's hands, lest he keel over and die of thirst.

Lord Mooton came to the side of the table and held both letters before Tyrion. "The Gods favor our cause, and now the whole realm knows it!" Tyrion gave him one threatening look and Lord Mooton knew that now was not the time to doddle or mince words. "King Aegon writes that the Bloody Gate has fallen before him, and that the garrison turned on itself and opened the mighty gates before them."

Tyrion snatched the letter from his hand and began reading through it.  _Yohn came through for us, and both sides of the garrison took heavy casualties. We rode our heavy horses through the gate and cut the chains so they couldn't lock us out. The fighting was close quarters for half an hour, before they broke and some fled while the others held strong. Ser Donnel Waynwood was slain by Ser Lyn Corbray who then took twin arrows to the his body. He took several more wounds before we clashed our blades on the stone bridge, but rest assured for he is now dead. I have moved out towards the Gates of Moon and by the time this reaches you the castle and Vale should be mine. Keep safe and healthy my friend, and I'll rejoin you with the army of the Vale soon if all my luck holds. King Aegon the Sixth of House Targaryen._ Tyrion noted that the title was in different and cleaner handwriting, and he guessed it was Edric's hand.

"It's amazing!" Bryce exclaimed in excitement and Tyrion knew that he would probably dream of being at that battle.

Lord Mooton's hand still held firm on the last letter, and Tyrion noted that his face was anything but ecstatic or joyous. "This I believe is the most important news, it's from a scout near Riverrun," Tyrion took the letter from him and Mooton's voice was simply monotone and held eeriness. "I don't think we'll need those pitch lines anymore, Lord Tyrion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.


	26. A Time For Sorrow

Alayne:

 

"Keep the arrows raining on them, boys! Make them pay for every step they take in this land!" Screamed a voice from the Moon Gate's wall.

 _Please Mother, show us mercy._ Sansa begged as she clutched Sweetrobin in her lap, and he continued to scream and sob and soil himself further.  _Please Warrior, give them courage enough to not falter before our enemies._ A loud crash rung in from the window along with several cries of pain, and Sansa closed her eyes to stem the tears and prayed harder.  _Please Smith, give them strength to repel our foes._  She heard more orders being shouted and she finished her prayer.  _Please Crone, give me wisdom enough to save my Sweetrobin._

Suddenly the door to her and Sweetrobin's bedchamber was flung open and she wished she had a weapon to defend herself. "Are you both alright?" Harry asked as he strode into the room in his plated mail and plumed helmet under his arm. Sansa had stood from Sweetrobin and ignored his cries as she clutched at Harry and sobbed. "Shh, quiet now my Love. Everything is alright." He consoled her.

She cried harder and pounded at his armored chest. "No it's not! You promised me he wouldn't break through and he did!" She had wanted to hurt him, but she only succeeded in hurting her hands. "We're doomed, there is nowhere for us to go!" Petyr was shaking earlier in the day when word arrived that the Bloody Gate had fallen and Yohn Royce had proven his falseness by letting them in. Petyr had wanted to climb the high road back up to the Vale, but Mya warned them that it was impossible and even she would die if she tried to make the trek now.

Despite how hard and cold his armor was, Harry did his best to be gentle as his hand gently smoothed back her hair. "I won't let them touch you I swear, I'll kill every bastard who makes it over that wall if it means you're safe."

"We need every man back at the wall, they're trying to bridge the moat." Urged a short soldier armed with a shield and mace. "We need to go, Ser Harrold."

Harry's arms slid off of Alayne's shoulders and he kissed her forehead. "I have to go."

 _I don't want you to._ Sansa knew she couldn't be selfish and that he had to go protect Sweetrobin and herself. "Promise me you won't die."

Harrold gave her a reassuring smile and his dimples were on full display. "I'd never leave you alone." With one last kiss, he turned from the room and put his blue plumed helmet back on.

Sansa ran back to her shared bed with Robert and he was still crying and sobbing. "He'll defend us, you heard him yourself." She said in her gentlest voice.

She tried to rub his shoulders to calm him, but he scratched and clawed her away and curled under his soiled covers. "I don't want you, I want my mother!" He screeched.

 _So do I_. Sansa wanted to scream back at him, but she knew nothing could be done to console her Sweetrobin. She then got on her hands and knees and crawled over to the window. After carefully poking her head over the sill, she saw the frantic movement of household guards going on and off the wall. She saw Ser Lothor Brune leading defense, just as he said he would earlier in the morn. He organized several men to go out to the hills and to collect the biggest rocks they could find to toss at the invaders and while it wasn't much, it was something. If Myranda was to be believed this was the first ever siege the castle was about to suffer. Myranda Royce herself had disappeared earlier during the day and Sansa knew she was hiding in some hole or hideaway in the castle.  _Some friend she turned out to be._

Sansa then located Harry who was armed with a crossbow on the wall, and as several arrows whizzed by his head her heart nearly stopped, but he didn't even seem to register them as threats. Mya Stone had even been down there with the rest of the men behind the gate, she had armored herself in leather and mail and had a short sword and shield.But a noticeable absence in the field was Petyr Baelish who looked to be in denial when they were told of the Bloody Gate falling.  _I ... I knew Yohn Royce was against us, but I never thought Ser Lyn would fail me._ Petyr had stood up and then calmly left the room and locked himself in his sitting room, and every few minutes he would have a letter flown to some distant Lord that wouldn't reach them in time, if they came at all.

"Have we won?" Robert asked from under his covers. He didn't dare to remove himself from them as if they protected him from the coming storm.

 _No you idiot we haven't!_ Sansa almost screamed back at him, but she simply shook her head and continued watching. She had wanted to cry as she saw a man next to Harry slip over the wall, and fall to his death. Sansa guessed he died as he wasn't moving and no one seemed concerned with him as they passed him.

Suddenly the door flung open again, but this time it was Petyr who was dressed in heavy furs and he had an ornate looking blade in his hands. "We need to go now." He told her, and she noticed that he was flanked by four guards.

"How? We're surrounded!" Sansa stood from the window and ran over to him, desperate for any means of escape.

Petyr embraced her in a hug and she withstood it, as it could mean her survival. "I don't care what Mya said. We will climb back up to the Eyrie and it will protect us against all." He whispered.

"If we're going, we need to go now, Lord Baelish." Said a helmet wearing guard in a northern accent.

Petyr turned to the men. "First, I need a sign of her love." Before she could react, he had carried her over to the bed. "Harrold doesn't matter anymore, you and I are the only ones who matter in this world."

"What are you doing?!" She screamed and fought against him and she could feel Robert still squirming under his covers. "Help!" She screamed for anyone.

Petyr's breath betrayed what he had been doing this day and it stunk heavily of wine. "I know you wanted this to happen, you are always tempting me. Just like your mother did." His mouth slammed onto her's and their teeth banged together and it made her mouth hurt. But not so much as when his hand started pulling her skirts up.

"We don't have time for this. So get off her." Exclaimed one of the guards who had a golden beard poking out from under his rusty helmet.

That angered him as he spun around and brandished a dagger towards the man. "I'll take what should have always been mine! No one not even Brandon Stark will stop me this time!" Sansa had managed to slide away from him and was almost off the bed, before he grabbed her by her ankles and dragged her back to him. "Where are you going? We love each other and we always have, Cat."

"I'm not Cat!" She screamed and suddenly Petyr was flung off of her and onto the floor. She had been in shock, but the northern accented man had come into the room and was standing over a shocked Petyr threateningly.

The bearded guard held his ungloved hand out to her. "Come with me, my Lady. We need to get you away from here now."

Sansa lifted the covers off her Sweetrobin and ignored his fighting and pulled him away from his bed. "We're going to escape and be safe, my sweet. Now just trust me." That seemed to steady him, but he still was dangerously pale and looked to be ready to go into a shaking spell. "Thank you, good Ser." Was all she knew to say to her savior.

"Now, are you going to play nice or do we need to leave you here?" Asked the man who had tossed Littlefinger off her.

Petyr still looked half in shock as he layed on the floor, but his sword had been tossed away earlier and he was in no position to argue with the armored and armed men. "I ... yes." He stood up from the ground and dusted himself off just like it was a bad dream.

"Keep a hold on him, and stay in between us." The golden bearded man ordered her and he then drew his sword. The guards then formed a square around her and her Sweetrobin, while Petyr was hiding in the rear of the group.

The screaming outside of the castle was getting louder and she knew that it would not be long until the gates fell. "Where are we going?" She asked timidly as the men did frighten her despite what their intentions seemed to be.

No one answered her. By the time they had exited the castle a loud crash echoed and over the mass of bodies guarding it from their side and Sansa knew the gate had fallen. "Quickly get to the stables!" Petyr hissed. "We can ride up to the Castle of Stone." Petyr had broken from the group and attempted to detach a horse from it's reins.

"What the hell are you all doing!" Cried a woman's voice which belonged to Mya who was still dressed in her armor and then ran in front of Petyr. Sansa noticed she had a bleeding wound in her hairline. 

Petyr pushed by her and exclaimed. "We're going up to the Eyrie to protect ourselves. You would do well to come with us, Mya."

Mya grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "I told you, we can't! It's far too treacherous and you'll die if you try."

It had been quick and Sansa almost missed it, but Petyr had backhanded Mya across the face and knocked her into the snow. "I'm still the acting regent of the Vale and a lowborn bastard like yourself won't touch or tell me what to do!"

"We can't take horses up. We'll need to walk on foot or we won't know where the soft spots in the ice are." Complained one of Petyr's usual guards.

"He's right, we'll need to walk or we're done." Exclaimed the northern sounding guard.

Petyr seemed to heed that man's word at first, and Sansa knew he must have remembered what that floor of Sweetrobin's room still felt like. "They'll catch us if we walk!" But yet he still argued back.

"You can go on horse if you wish, but we all are going on foot, so make your choice." The bearded man exclaimed as he lead Sansa by the back away from the stables and towards the road up the Giant's Lance.

Sansa felt Sweetrobin's hand slip from her's and she looked back in a panic as Petyr held Robert by the collar and had a dagger to his throat. "No! I'm in charge here as I just told you. We do what I want now."

"Let him go!" Sansa screamed as she was still being pulled away by the bearded man. "He's just a child, don't hurt him!" She was hysterical and desperately wanted to run and protect her little bird.

The northern accented man drew his axe from his belt loop and stalked closer to Petyr. "Just let him go, and go on which ever way you want. For if you kill him, then you know I won't let you go." His axe hand tensed and Sansa knew he was looking for the perfect moment to strike.

"Give me her, and I'll give you him. Do it now." Petyr pulled harder on Sweetrobin's collar and lifted him off his feet which choked him.

Sweetrobin's eyes were turning red and she could see his hands beginning to tremble and she knew he was about to go into a shaking spell. "Fine. I'll go with you, just let him go!"

A grey armored figure ran in through the side of the stable, and Sansa knew who it was immediately. "What's going on here? You all need to get back in the castle until it's safe!" Commanded Harry whose sword was bathed in red blood. "What are you doing, Petyr?" He asked as he finally noticed the blade at Sweetrobin's neck.

Petyr looked back and forth between Sansa and Harry and then a cruel and sadistic smile grew on his lips. "Tell him, tell him who you really love. Me or him." She knew that it was what he desperately wanted his entire life, for a Tully to choose him over another higher born and better man. "You tell him that you always loved me more than him and that you were only using him. And I won't kill your Sweetrobin."

"I always loved you the most." Sansa didn't hesitate or stutter, but Petyr's grip never loosened. "I never loved Harry and I only lied to him to please you. Now please let him go and we can go away and give into our love." She desperately was searching her brain for anything else he wanted to hear.

Petyr's face softened looked as if tears were forming in the corner of his eyes. "That was all I ever wanted to hear ... ever since I was a boy." A loud slicing noise rung out and red blood poured from her Sweetrobin's throat.

"No!" Sansa cried and she felt her legs buckle under her and she buried her head in the snow. She had lost all vision and her eyes wouldn't open, but she heard another quick slice of human flesh and she knew Petyr was now dead too.

"We need to get you out of here, M'lady." Said the northern voice as he tugged on her shoulders. "Your mother desperately wants to see you." He added.

"My mother's dead. Just like my father, my brothers, my sister, and now my Sweetrobin." She desperately sobbed into the snow.

"She's not sweet girl. I promise you she's not. Now come with us and we'll get you out of here." The northern man lifted her to her feet and tried to tug her away. But Sansa saw her Sweetrobin lying dead in the snow and Petyr's body was only a few feet behind him. Mya was standing over Petyr's corpse and her sword was sticking through the back of his head.

"You two should come with us." The blonde bearded man told them.

Mya still looked down at Petyr's corpse and the girl shook her head. "I'm staying here. Mayhaps I'll be able to do something of use here."

Harry's face let none of his feelings slip, but he nodded. "It will be a hard climb, but climbing down the cliffs is the only chance of real escape." He turned from the stables and the remaining group followed after them.

Sansa gave one last look at the stables before the tears in her eyes clouded her vision. More screams and sounds of destruction rang out from the front of the castle, but Sansa noted that many of the defenders still held the gate from bursting. "Do you know the climb?" Asked the northern man as they got closer to the edge of the castle on the road leading up the Giant's Lance.

"No, but it has been used as a test of strength and courage during the summer months. It will be difficult to climb especially in the snow, but it's the only way you'll escape the army for sure." Harrold retrieved a length of rope and handed it to the bearded man. "You can use this to lower Sansa down the mountain, but you'll have to make most of the climb yourself. Halfway down it turns into ramps and steps, that shouldn't be too difficult."

As the approached the edge of the cliffs Sansa looked over the falls and knew it must have been nearly a hundred foot drop down to the wooded area below. "What did you call me?" She asked in fear as she recounted what he said.

Another loud crash filled the night sky and Sansa knew it was over for the castle now. "We have to go!" Screamed the northern man as he tied the rope around Sansa's waist. "Hold on to me." He told her, but she didn't listen and cupped Harrold's chin in her palm.

"The Dragon!" Screamed a voice near the gate and Sansa to her horror saw a line of heavily armored Knights riding through the gates of the castle and they slew all in their way.

The golden haired man seemed to be struggling to climb down and Sansa briefly wondered why he did not throw his golden gauntlet off if it troubled him so much to climb with. "I'll stay here and make sure none stop you." Harry exclaimed and glanced back at the fighting far and away near the gates which was going decidedly in the favor of the attackers.

It was a ridiculous proposal and he knew it. "No! You're coming with us, I can't lose you too. Not now, I love you." Sansa clutched at him, and she could feel his body loosen in her grip and his arms hung to the side. "Do you remember what you told me?"

"I love you, and I always will and that's why I need to protect you." Harry looked back at the northern man and he seemed to ask for a few more moments. "I never believed in fate or magic, but my dreams told me your truth. And I would be lying if I didn't say it was crazy or that it made me want you more. I've never felt this same feeling that I feel about you, not even my own child gave me such feelings-"

"Over there, those people are trying to escape!" Roared a man on horse, who was then joined by two others that rode towards them in due haste.

The northern man ignored Sansa's protests and wrapped the rope around her waist. "Say your peace." He commanded while he carried her over his shoulder.

She tried to fight back against him, but it was useless. "We will be together either in this life or the next, I swear. I love you."

"And I you." Harry murmured before putting his helmet back on and turning along with the two other remaining guards at his side. "You will all stay back, or you'll find your death with me." He warned the three dark horsemen.

Without pause all three descended from their horses and they drew their weapons. The center one was a monstrous and frightening figure in black and gold armor, but the true horror came when he drew a ruby pommeled blade that Sansa knew was Lady Forlorn, but she knew that this man was not Ser Lyn Corbray. "I wondered where you were on the wall, Harrold." Spoke the black figure, and Sansa's true nightmares came to realization when she heard the melodious voice pour from the helmet.

"I was not there, and pity your fate if I had been." Harry responded as he lifted and prepared his sword.

The northern man was climbing down the mountain, and he was nearly low enough down where he could carry Sansa through rest, but she didn't want to surrender her Harry to her last living nightmare.

"Lord Royce hoped you would have seen reason and surrendered the castle to me. And when we arrived, I wondered why the gates still held shut to me." The Dragon King's voice held no malice or anger, just simple finality.

"Be glad I wasn't at the Bloody Gate, or the false Lord Royce would be dead and you would still be there futily pounding your fists." Harry didn't miss a beat in his tone and lowered the visor of his helm.

Aegon looked past Harrold and at Sansa herself then, but he did not seem to recognize her as he did not move. "All the Lords of the Vale will soon dip their banners and pledge me fealty ... I was hoping you would be among them."

Harry Arryn moved forward and Sansa knew it would start soon. "I won't bow to you, not then and not now." Harrold was stronger and bigger than Aegon and was always sure of himself.

The King's shadows moved to guard him as the white of the new snow melted against their black armors. Harry lifted his sword in both hands as the black King lifted Lady Forlorn in his left hand. "So I feared." And then a loud clash of steel echoed as their blades met.

"Let go Sansa, let go!" Demanded the northern voice from below her. "You have to let go!"

But she couldn't draw herself from the dance of death between her hero and her monster. While Harry was bigger, he also was much slower and the black armor seemed to dance effortlessly across the white snow covered ground. One of the shadows moved in with a club of black metal to help his King, but Aegon's voice was sure and steady. "You leave him to me!" He shouted as he smashed Harry's helmet with the crossguard and Harry stumbled back.

"You won't end me Ser, I have those who are counting on me!" Harry roared as he wildly swung his sword at his opponent which kept the black armor backpedaling and dodging. But not for long as Harry overextended his reach and tripped over something hidden under the snow.

The black armor didn't seem dazed or even impeded as he allowed Harry to return to his feet. "Drop your blade, I won't ask you again." It warned and Harry didn't pay it any heed as his sword locked against Lady Forlorn. Harrold was stronger and that served him well as he pushed down on the smaller man.

"Give, and I won't end your life!" Harry roared out in anger as he had forced the black armor into a near crouched stance under him and in the snow.

"No," The voice was hard and cut like steel as his right hand slipped under Harry's guard and a sheen of metal from his hand was reflected.

Like a dream, Sansa felt pulled from of her own body as the rope tugged at her waist and she fell back off the edge of the cliff. Just as she heard Harry cry out in pain, she felt herself immediately come to a stop as the golden haired man caught her. "No, let me go!" She screamed and battled against the man as no further word came from either the Dragon King or her Harry above them.

"Sansa, you have to be calm we're going to get you home." The man replied back and would not give an inch for her to pull herself away.

Tears stung her eyes as they carried her down the slopes carved into the mountain.  _I had a home and it was with Harry._ Sansa would not allow any more tears to come to her eyes as the visage of her family and Harry flashed through her mind, and they then gave way to Aegon and his black armor. _Winter is coming for him, I swear it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> Also if you see any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes I'd appreciate it if you alerted me to them, because while I usually QC chapters at least twice, I do miss things occasionally.


	27. From Across the Narrow Sea

Betha:

 

"Take whatever you girls like and make sure you burn the rest." Nabbo had advised them as the dawn broke and their shifts started.

Vorissa, another female servant at the inn had barely been able to contain her excitement as the fat keyholder told them. "Anything?!" Her voice had squeaked.

"The man has been missing for two fortnights and the guards are looking for him for the crime of fraud as we speak. So I think it is safe to assume he's either dead or gone from the city." Nabbo had informed them and then leaned back in his gold and bronze throne that still managed to croon and groan under his weight.

Vorissa or Rissa as she had demanded Betha call her, bounded from the room and called back to Betha. "Quickly lets go find some treasures before anyone wakes!" Betha had respectfully waved to Nabbo who seemed to have died within the few moments from talking as his chest didn't move, but Betha knew his fat had covered that up well and he probably still lived.

"We are the only two who work on that floor, so what does it matter if we go now or later?" Betha asked as Rissa had skipped through the marble hall. "It's not like it will disappear on us."

Rissa claimed to be six and ten, although Arya had guessed her to be two years younger. She was a rather flighty sort of girl and was the same sort that Arya had despised growing up, as Rissa always talked of the newest songs and plays throughout the city and only loved the romance in them and to Arya's displeasure loved to tell her of them. "But maybe he left some coin behind!"

He hadn't as Betha had swiped what ever coin he had remaining much earlier. "And it will still be waiting for us, regardless of if we run or walk." Betha had exclaimed in annoyance.

"You're no fun." Rissa had replied in a sad tone, but thankfully she did stop her bouncing. "But can you believe the scandal? He claimed to be Aegon Targaryen and told all those girls he would make them his paramours and concubines!" Rissa had lowered her head and whispered to Betha. "And I'll admit I was thinking about letting him have me ... but I certainly made out lucky didn't I?"

 _He was disgusting. More so now I suppose._ Arya was happy that those girls had found out their folly of trusting Sharako. It had been quite a ruckus in the city when three girls claimed to be two months pregnant with Aegon's bastards and when they told the city of their blessing, Lornel Antaryon had rebutted their claims. The girls were too stupid that they didn't understand that the festival of the Dragon was for his departure from Braavos. Suddenly Betha remembered Aegon's offering to her and she wished she had stuck him with her needle.  _I should have slit his throat in his sleep._ Betha felt her lips and then wanted to cry as she remembered his lips touching hers.

"They said his name was Sharako and he was just a merchant, and not Aegon Targaryen. He seemed handsome enough to me though." Rissa sighed and turned as they got to the great staircase. "I heard one of the girl's fathers disowned them and now she's working at a pleasure house." Arya knew that she was right, as the girl had entered into the Black Pearls entourage and was just watching and learning until she gave birth. "Isn't that sad?"

Arya had to suppress her own snicker. "She was stupid to trust someone just because he claimed to be a king." Betha had answered truthfully.

Rissa made a noise of shock, although she had heard Betha speak of crueler things. "How can you be so heartless Beth? She fell in love with him and he lied to her. Wouldn't you feel pity if it was me? I'd feel sorrow if it was you."

Betha didn't stop the snickering then. "I'm surprised it wasn't you. I know how you smooch that stupid Braavo behind the inn when you're on break." Rissa had looked to pinch Betha for eavesdropping, but didn't have the chance as Betha took off running up the stairs. "Oh Adarys, I'm ticklish there." Betha called back in her best imitation of Rissa's voice.

"You heard that too?" Rissa called out from far away, as she couldn't run as fast as Betha could in the tall wooden shoes they had to wear.

Betha had climbed up the last stair and turned far down the hall to Sharako's abandoned room. "Adarys, we can't fool around here someone might be watching," Betha said in Rissa's voice and then replied in her own. "Maybe you should have been worried about someone listening." Without any delay, Betha had retrieved the key to the room and inserted it into the lock. "Oh you're so naughty Adarys." Betha jested just as Rissa had finally made her way up the stairs.

"Stop it!" She begged as she did her best to run to Betha. "It's rude to listen like that."

"Maybe you shouldn't do it in the open." Betha had responded as both girls walked into the dimply lit room, once inhabited by Sharako. "I remember he kept a trunk of his belongings in the bedroom." Betha advised Rissa as maybe she would like what ever the man had left.

Without another word Rissa had run from the living area and into the bedroom. "It smells foul in here!" Rissa called out in disgust, and Betha couldn't help but snicker as she had smelt the same days earlier although she knew it was probably worse now.

"Find anything interesting?" Betha asked as she leaned over the window overlooking the bay.  _Like a rock._ Arya said in her head as she stared deep into the waters below the window.

Rissa had made several cooing noises that forced Betha to pull herself from the window and to the foul smelling room. "He had a family." Rissa murmured as she looked upon a myrish oil painting of a family of seven, one older woman who had a kindly look and five boys of varying age and then one girl that took after the older woman, and then Sharako in the middle looking proud as ever.

 _Maybe he should have thought of them._ Arya had seen the painting herself days earlier, and it had no effect then or now. "All those children were depending on him, and he forsook his duties to them because he wanted to fuck some pretty girls. Maybe they should add those three bastards he's fathered into the painting."

"You're too cruel," Rissa did her best to chide her. "His daughter looks to be your age."

 _I'm well aware of the comparison's between me and her._ Betha had wanted to say as Sharako always made sure to tell as such, right before his hands would grope her. "Is she?" Betha had feigned interest.

"Although she's not as pretty as you." Rissa's jest had been too far and Betha had wanted to slap her. "I mean her hair is styled much better than your boy cut, but you have a much prettier face and you are shaped better."

"I'm not pretty," Betha exclaimed and then pinched Rissa's wrist and nearly made her drop the oil painting. "And her tits are bigger than mine." Betha had added with her thickest Braavosi poor accent, as Betha came from the poor sides of town and knew of tavern talks.

Rissa pinched Betha's nose between her two fingers. "You know better, Nabbo doesn't tolerate language like that. Just so you know your hips and waist are much shapelier than her's and your breasts will grow later, mine only started to fill out this last year." Rissa's eyes tickled and Betha knew that it only meant bad things when they did. "You know Adarys has a brother, I think you two should meet."

Betha wasn't going to give her the benefit of a response and stood from the chest. _Disgusting, what makes her think I'm interested in that brute's brother._

"Well what do you say? He's handsome and even is apprenticing at the Iron Bank. If you played nice enough and got him mesmerized like I do my Adarys, you'd be wealthy one day and wouldn't have to work in this job." Rissa made a good point and Betha knew that it would blow her cover not to take up this chance.

"Sorry,"  _Just say it stupid it won't kill you._ Arya forced her mouth to finish. "But I already have someone."

Rissa's smile went so wide and bright, Betha thought it could have doubled as a light tower. "Tell me!" She squealed in delight. "What does he look like? What does he do? Who broke my Betha's heart of stone?"

 _You can handle it ... just tell her._ "He's a blacksmith in the city, and a stupid one at that."

"You only call those you like stupid, and you can't tell me different. Now if he's a blacksmith he must be strong, so is he? What color hair?" Rissa was hungry now and wanted nothing more than answers.

"Black, and I guess he is."  _I bet he would love to hear this, I can just imagine his japes._ "He's thick headed and stubborn though."

Rissa snickered. "So just like you." Betha was unable to stand anymore of this teasing and turned from the bedroom as the copper haired Rissa gave chase. "He must be quite charming and clever, he is the one who wrote that song for you I imagine."

Betha stopped dead in her tracks and spun around to the Braavosi serving girl, and she made sure to look deep into her eyes to show her anger. "I never should have told you about that."

"You wouldn't have had to if you knew all your Braavosi characters. So tell me, did he write it for you?"

 _I should have just burned it ... or tossed it into the canals._ Arya wished she had destroyed the poem that the stupid Dragon King left for her in his room. "He did," Arya lied as she had no way of explaining it otherwise and it gave more credence to her alias.  _I'm going to destroy it when I get back to my room._ "And you promised me you wouldn't bring it up again!"

Rissa turned from Betha and hopped onto the window sill and hung out it. "I lied." She then threw her head back and exclaimed. "Betha of the blackest of wits and of heart, was rendered soft for her King of love and charm!" She sang loudly to the still waking city.

"You better be careful or you'll fall!" Betha warned her in a minor threat.  _You won't be the first to go through that window._

The copper haired girl chuckled. "I can't fall for my heart is still light and joyous my sweet Betha. Now how did the rest go? Oh yes, I sang and sung, but still you hold your virtue where many others have fallen. Oh my dangerous and dark Betha-"

"Shut up! Your so stupid!"  _I have work to be doing, why am I listening to her?_ Arya wondered and with that she turned from the room and left Rissa to her singing. "I'll see you when you remember that we have jobs to be doing." She called before shutting the door.  _Don't let your cover become you._ The Kindly man reminded her.

As she walked back into the hall she noticed that they had new guests at the inn, as Lysar and Lazario hefted a trunk up the stairs and into the center room on the floor. "How many?" She asked as she opened the door for them.

"Just one, another Westerosi." Exclaimed Lysar, the younger of the brothers.

Lazario banged his head against the doorway and nearly dropped the trunk. "Surprise eh, all we ever get these days are Westerosi begging the Iron Bank for the coin to fund their wars."

"Which king would that be?" Arya had to know.

Lazario shrugged his shoulders and then nearly tripped off the step in the center of the room. "Some Stannis Baratheon. Doesn't matter much anyhow. From what I've heard the Iron Bank won't be supporting anyone else from that godforsaken land." The brothers then dropped the chest in the largest bedroom and Betha felt like the room was a waste if only one was living there.

"What does it matter to you anyhow? Got some friends from there?" Asked Lysar as he took a rest on the wood and gilded chest.

Betha shook her head. "No, but my father had traveled there from time to time, and any news is interesting."

The door creaked open and Betha looked to the central room and saw a blond man with hair as pale as flax. "Are you damn Braavosi finished up in there?" He asked and his tone sounded anything, but friendly.

Lazario the older of the brothers was the only one who knew the common tongue of Westeros so he stood up and called back. "Almost Seruy," Betha had to suppress a snicker from how badly butchered his Westerosi was. She had nearly forgotten that Nabbo only hired servants who could speak the common tongue, but the two brothers were only their for heavy lifting and protection if need, which it never was.

She then pushed by the older of the brothers and bowed her head before the new patron of the room. "I'll be your serving girl, would you care for some refreshments?" She asked in her most polite tone.

He was a rather handsome man with his blue eyes and pink cheeks, but he looked to be quite irritated. "Bring me some wine, and be sure it's sweet."

"Right away." Betha bowed and left the room and after a short jog to the kitchens and back, she presented him with a goblet and flagon of wine. "Would you like me to pour?"

The man looked down at the single cup and it seemed to irritate him. "Fine, but bring one more cup. I'm expecting company."

Betha nodded and went to the cupboard where they kept extra goblets. As she turned back to the table she noticed that the bedchamber was empty and the brothers must had left while she was gone. "You came earlier than we expected you. I haven't had a chance to change the linens yet, would you like me to come back later or-"

"Do it now, so when my guest comes we'll have someone to pour the wine. For I plan to inebriate myself until I can't see straight and I'd hate to waste good wine by spilling it." He finished with a smile that seemed to lighten his earlier foul mood. "What do they call you girl?"

"Bethany." She answered and placed the empty goblet on the table and waited for any other questions he might have. "Would you like to know anything else?"

He shook his head and finished half of his cup in one mighty slurp. "Thats enough for now, and you may call me Ser Justin. Now get back to work girl, I'm hoping to break that bed in tonight."

"I'll go get it ready then." Betha had murmured and went back to the bedchamber. It was old habit stripping beds for her now, as she had been doing it for nearly a month and half.  _Least he doesn't leer on me like Sharako. He's a prick though._ Arya had met his kind before and knew he gave sweet words when he was anything but. She turned to the closet in the corner and retrieved clean linens for the bed and she stopped momentarily as her eyes fell on the writing table on the desk where she found Aegon's last gift.  _I imagine I'll be cleaning these sheets more then I cleaned his._

"Are you Ser Massey?" Asked a distinctly feminine voice, and Arya knew exactly what company he had meant.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor and she heard him reply. "I am, and I understand they all you the Poetess?"

Arya had walked on her toes and made no sound as she crept over to the partially opened door that allowed her only a crack of vision into the room.  _How could he afford her company? And for her to come all the way to his room?_

"I must admit my good Ser, you're much more handsome than I thought you would be." She had hair the color of honey and her voice was something even sweeter. Betha knew that even Aegon's voice was a shadow compared to the songs this women would be able to sing.

That seemed to pique his interest as his pink cheeks went to a darker shade. "You flatter me my good Lady. But the rumors did you no justice and they already spoke impossibly high of you." Justin Massey was using the best of his abilities to charm her, as if he thought a courtesan would fall for him.

 "May I sit?"

Justin looked around the room and called out. "Girl, come and pour us wine."

Betha waited a few seconds before opening the door and walking into the room. "Right away." Betha then poured the Poetess cup full and she refilled Ser Massey's as well. As was taught of her she stood in far corner of the room and remained out of sight until needed.

"I understand you came from the northern part of Westeros. What is it like up there?"

Ser Massey snickered into his cup and responded. "Cold weather with snows that pile higher than horses. And don't get me started on the people, they all claim to be about honor and justice and think they're better than the south in every way." Massey leaned into the table and the Poetess did the same. "If it wasn't for Stannis riding north to save them, they'd have nothing and be nothing." But Betha could still hear him and it raised Arya's anger.

The Poetess casually sipped her wine in a seductive manner before responding. "I understand that you're here to make terms with the Iron Bank."

"Aye, I am. They backed the wrong king and I'm hear to show them their folly. They had even sent a representative to King Stannis and after we had already negotiated with the man, we were told that they had already finished terms with the false dragon."

Poetess' eyes fluttered as he said false dragon, but her lips never ceased to smile. "We don't jape of dragons here."

Justin bowed his head and picked her hand up and kissed it. "I do apologize, I forgot myself."

"It is quite alright, my Lord. I know those from the other side of the Narrow Sea get confused on all of the different cultures of the free cities." Her words were soft and gracious, but her eyes held a look of boredom already. "Is there any other interesting news?"

Justin Massey smirked and finished the rest of his second cup. Betha wasted no time in returning to the table and refilling it. "The only thing I miss is that I'm going to miss the battle at Winterfell," Betha had almost dropped the flagon then, but recovered. "Unfortunately the Stark bastard Jon Snow accepted the offer to be legitimized. So the castle and north are his, I was hoping he would have had the same honor that his father did, and turned it down. But all is not lost for me yet, after they kill Ramsay Snow and if I can manage to reverse the Iron Banks foolish decision, my King has promised me the younger sister Arya Stark and the Dreadfort."

Arya had finished pouring the wine and returned to the dark corner of the room very confused.  _How? How can he give me away, I'm not even his to give away._

"Ramsay Snow?" The Poetess asked. "Sorry, I don't know who or what that is."

"Oh aye, Ramsay Snow or Bolton as he prefers, was given the hand of the last remaining Stark girl to solidify his father's claim on the North. The only reason Jon Stark accepted Stannis' proposal was for her." Justin chuckled then. "He's far too soft to be Lord of the North in my honest opinion, but time will tell us that I tell you now."

Betha's grip on the flagon was increasing and she could feel her fingers going numb and white. "I have other rooms to visit, so please excuse me." She spat as she placed the flagon on the table and ran from the room.  _Jon left the Night's Watch to save me ... but it won't be me._ She felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes, but she quickly wiped them back and ground her teeth to stop herself. She walked sure and steady to Nabbo's office and when she got to the fat man's office, he was still napping. "I quit." She exclaimed and pulled the broach from the breast of dress and tossed it onto his desk. "Thank you for the job." He looked to be ready to speak, but she gave him no chance as she turned from the room and exited out the servants entrance.

"Betha, where are you going?" Screamed a voice from behind that Arya recognized as Rissa.

Arya however didn't respond and pushed her way past the growing crowd and she had only one destination in mind; the House of Black and White.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been toying around with the idea of adding the pairing tags on the front of the story. I've been holding off because I felt it would spoil the coming story, but I would like some input from you readers if you think I should or shouldn't.
> 
> But I hoped you all enjoyed the read. I know it might seem quite slow compared to the last chapter, but I need to start building other plots up so bare with me.


	28. The Little Wolf's Choice

Rickon:

 

"It is a good omen little Lord, they say most have been hunted to extinction." Osha murmured as she gently rubbed Rickon's back, trying to usher him forward.

Rickon had been frightened when Osha found it, and Shaggy had felt the need to prove it's worth. "I don't need it. We should kill it and bring it back for the rest."

Osha still had her hands on his shoulders and she continued to push him forward. "It's a gift from the Gods, you would be a great fool to ignore it. Now go and touch it." She commanded him.

 _I can do this, it's just some stupid horse._ He cautiously walked to it and he made sure he kept himself low to the ground in case it decided to attack. "I'm not gonna hurt you, now be still beast." He had heard Shaggy padding after him.  _Stay Shaggy, or you'll frighten it._ It had been much larger than he thought and Rickon barely could reach it's neck even if he stood on his toes.

"Now pet him and show him you won't harm it." Osha reminded him as he stopped beside the massive horned beast.

 _I heard you the first time!_ Rickon had wanted to shout back, but he didn't want to risk the beast fleeing. "Be good now, I'm just gonna touch you." He ordered the beast, though he doubted it understood him. As he reached up to it he scratched under it's grey neck and it seemed to ease itself. It was quite an intimidating beast especially this close up, and it was nearly all grey except for the mane which was distinctly white. Osha had told him it's name in Skagosi, but he knew it was called a Unicorn and that Old Nan had told him stories of their cunning and strength. "You're just a horse with a horn." Rickon realized as the animal bowed it's head, allowing Rickon to touch the smooth and rounded horn of bone.

He didn't have anything to feed it, so he continued offering it short pats under the chin. "Try to mount him." Osha added him and Rickon couldn't help, but notice that her voice was still far and away.

"He'll buck me off, if I can even climb up to him at all." Rickon complained verbally although he did want to try to ride it as well.

Osha let out a brief snort of laughter. "If you fall then you get back up and try again. That's what I taught you in everything."

"Fine." Rickon exclaimed. It still was not low enough for him to climb on, so he kept goading it with pats.  _Stay put Shaggy, no matter what._ "Alright ... now just keep still and-" It seemed soothed by the sound of his voice so as it lowered itself. He then bounced off his feet and wrapped his arms around it's neck in an embrace. "Help Osha!" He screamed as it shook and jumped through the air, while he desperately clung to it's neck for dear life.

"I can't help you!" She called out in between chuckles.

Rickon knew Shaggy was fighting an inner battle with himself to not attack the horse.  _It's now or never._ Rickon knew he couldn't cling to it's neck all day so he waited for it to end one of it's hops before he put all the strength he had into his arms. On the next bounce it launched him up and over it's neck and into the dirt beside it. "See I told you!" He screamed back at Osha and to his relief the beast had stopped bucking and returned to it's original placated state.

"Well get back up and finish what you started. It's waiting for you." Osha's words rang true as the horse bent it's head down for Rickon to try again.

"I'll get you this time." He was determined as he flung himself out of the hard dirt ground. Without further delay he jumped and wrapped his arms around it's neck again. Luckily he found that he was higher up than before and it afforded him a better grip. "Just give me a break!" Rickon huffed out as it leapt high into the air and came back down hard on the ground, which drove Rickon's gut into it's shoulder.

It had went on for nearly three minutes and Osha seemed to finally find some pity in his situation, so she advised him. "Right before he jumps you need to pull yourself up to him and swing your legs too."

"I'm trying!" He complained, but his body wouldn't obey him and his arms felt on fire as he struggled to bend them. "I've never even ridden a horse before, how can you expect this of me?"Rickon did have memories of being lead around Winterfell on the back of some golden horse, but he couldn't remember how he got up there or who lead the horse.  _Calm your senses and wait for him to tire himself._ A warmth spread through his body as his brother's voice rang through his head. "I will." He exclaimed under his breath and he held strong while waiting for his moment. Osha clearly wasn't impressed and took a step forward as if she meant to go save him. "Stay back, I've got to do this!" He shouted at her.

Osha held her hands up passively and stepped back. "Fine, do as you will. But don't complain to me about how sore you feel later."

Almost as if on cue, it paused to catch it's breath. Rickon ignored the fire in his arms and threw himself up and over it, but this time he dropped his right leg on the back on the horse to catch himself.  _I did it brother!_ He beamed, but all too soon it turned to fear as it's bucking doubled in strength and height.  _Hold tight and don't let go whatever you do, it's too high to fall._  Bran's voice warned him and Rickon wasn't planning on falling either.

"You've almost got him broken." Osha reassured him and he could tell she was excited and surprised in how far he had actually come.

They fought each other for what felt like an eternity to Rickon, and he could feel Shaggy just rearing to attack it and save his master.  _Almost there Shaggy, just cut me some slack._ Rickon begged and then the mighty horned beast stopped dead. "Is it over?" He asked as removed his cheek which was firmly planted against the beast's neck.

Osha carefully paced over the Rickon and the horned horse. "I didn't actually think you'd do it. Very impressive, they'll want to throw a celebration when they see you riding back on this." She brushed at it's mane and led it out of the clearing.

 _Come on Shaggy._ Rickon called and his great big wolf padded along, still cautious of the beast Rickon rode. "What will we do with it?" Rickon asked as Osha led him out of the Godswood.

"Well hopefully you'll grow into it, he's too big for you now, but in a few years you will be prime size." She continued leading the horned horse down the hill, and Rickon could see the Magnar's wooden castle in the distance.

It had taken them a little while to return to the castle. When they had passed by the small collection of hovels surrounding the hill, many had grasped in surprise or fear at the sight of Rickon's mount. Rickon felt they looked the same when he had first came to the island and they had seen his Shaggy. Osha told him many of the children looked up to him as a role model, and that the Magnar's own children did as well. "Do they have a place to tie him up?" Rickon asked as they stopped in front of the doors.

Osha chuckled and nodded. "Aye, I'm sure they do. But we won't be tying up a beast like this, we'll let the castle take a gander at him and then we'll release him."

"What!" Rickon had spent near his entire afternoon trying to tame his mount and he didn't want to release it. "But you said it was a gift from the Gods."

"I did, and it would be a crime to keep this majestic beast tied up in captivity." Osha hadn't told him that before he climbed it and he thought it was to be his.

Before he could reply, the doors swung open and the Magnar and his youngest son whose name Rickon didn't know, stepped out and marveled at his prize. "Gift from Gods." He exclaimed in his best common tongue. His son was obviously afraid of the beast so the Magnar lifted him up and allowed the small child to pat it's head. "King Stark ... is great." He added as his eyes traveled over the long horn jutting out of the beast's forehead.

"Thank you." Rickon was being taught their language by Osha, but he frequently snuck out early in the morn to avoid it. "Can you speak for me, Osha?"

Her smile grew wide and her eyebrows raised. "Oh, I see how it is. You flee from learning their tongue because you expect me to do it for you." After he lowered his head in shame, she sighed and did as he asked. After a short conversation that seemed to foul Osha's mood, she told Rickon. "Get down from him. We have something very important to talk about."

Rickon struggled to climb down from the tall beast, but he managed to make it down without falling on his face and shaming himself. He had expected it to bolt off and away, but to his surprise it stood it's ground. "What is it?"

Osha led Rickon into the wooden castle and kneeled down to his height. "Do you remember what you told me of your dreams?"

 _It's happening._ Rickon beamed as he knew Bran was right and someone had come for him. "Has someone come?" He asked excitedly and he noted Osha's face was anything, but joyous.

"Aye, the hunters found him and a ship of five on the beaches last night. They claimed to be looking for a Rickon Stark, and they said they were here to bring him back to his brother, Jon Stark."

 _Jon Stark? I don't know a Jon Stark._ Rickon couldn't think of any Stark named Jon. "I don't know a Jon, Osha.",

Her expression darkened and she nodded. "He was your half brother little Lord, do you not remember him either?"

Rickon didn't remember any names or faces from Winterfell, only voices. "I had an older brother, I remember following him most days until he left too."

"That was your brother Robb, not Jon. Maester Luwin told me you had a half brother at the Night's Watch." Osha always grew a look of worry when she reminded him of his family, and it always made him feel sad to see her as such. "Would you like to meet this men or shall we send them away?"

 _You must meet him, and be sure Shaggy is with you._ Bran advised as the warmth of his voice filled Rickon's belly. "I'll go meet him."

Osha shared several short words with the Magnar and he led them into the feasting hall. As they arrived Rickon saw several hunters of the Magnar who all wore heavy and rough cloaks and in each hand was a spear tipped with bronze heads. But the guests of importance were crowded around the roaring fire pit that dominated the center of the hall. Four of the men had a bluish green cloak emblazoned with a creature that had the lower body of a fish and the upper body of a man. The fifth of the men had brown hair speckled grey, and he wore a simple woolen cloak that had no markings.

As the Magnar's voice rang out in his broken common tongue, all five men turned to attention. "King Rickon Stark, here."

All men seemed to find him a strange sight and more so when Rickon's Shaggy came to his side. "Are you Rickon of house Stark?" Asked the plain looking man.

Rickon nodded his head and responded. "I am. Who are you?"

The man had a friendly smile that Rickon felt soothed by. "I am Davos Seaworth, Hand of King Stannis Baratheon." He tried to not stare too long at Shaggy, but he failed at that like most did. "I can see that the stories of your dire wolf are not exaggerated."

"Why are you here?" Rickon didn't wish to waste time on pleasant talk. "Are you here to take me away?"

Davos' face failed to hide his further surprise. "I-I ... I was sent here to bring you back to your family, yes."

"And what family is that?" Osha broke in with and stepped in front of Rickon as she did. "What reason does he have to trust you?"

"I've brought men with me from House Manderly, they would be happy to explain for you-"

"I've dreamt of this, Osha. They don't mean me any harm, Bran told me himself." Rickon had shuddered under Osha's fierce gaze, but he knew he couldn't balk before these men. "Where will you be taking me?"

The man called Davos seemed quite surprised at his willingness. While Rickon didn't want to leave this island full of adventure, he knew that Bran would never mislead him and he would trust his brother. "I will be taking you to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and from there I will escort you south to King Stannis and your brother Jon."

Osha had meant to speak, but Rickon cut her off with his own protest. "No, I must go to their home." Rickon explained and pointed at one of the men with a merman cloak.

"I was instructed to lead you to the Wall and then bring you south, it will be much faster-"

"If you mean for me to go with you, then you will bring me to the merman's home." Rickon said again and this time with noticeable anger in his voice. "And if you want me to go with you, I need some promises to be made."

Davos looked back and forth between Rickon, Osha, and the Magnar. "And what promise would that be, Lord Stark?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading. Be sure to leave a comment or review if you want, because it really kicks me into gear and gets me writing when i know people enjoy the story.
> 
> Next chapter will be Brienne


	29. The Dragon King

Brienne:

 

"Would you like some wine, my Lady?" Asked a black haired squire who looked frighteningly like a young Renly. As he even had the bright blue eyes and his brow would rise when he waited for responses or answers. But unlike Renly he had large ears that poked out from under his black hair, and she knew that it was Edric Storm.

"Yes, that would be fine." Brienne responded and Edric filled the silver goblet with a red vintage.

Edric seemed to be shy around her, as he frequently averted his gaze from her's and would stare at her hair or feet rather than her face. "Would you like some cheese?"

Brienne knew she was in the King's tent and that he had finally called on her to talk, but Aegon Targaryen was still missing. "Shouldn't we wait until your King gets here?"

The black haired boy shrugged his shoulders. "He's usually late, so I just thought you might be hungry, my Lady." Edric then placed the round wheel of cheese back on the serving table and waited.

Thankfully the men hadn't forced her into a dress, and she was still in her usual attire of man clothes as Ser Bryce Brune put it when he saw her. After her capture, she had heard that the harelipped man Branton wanted her head for what she and her companions did to him. She didn't know what happened with that, but she did know that she never saw him again. A maester had tended to her wounds and bandaged her up and soon after she was brought along with army camp. If her guards were to be believed then they had apparently broken through the Bloody Gate, but she doubted it.

"May I ask you a question?" Edric asked as his hands fidgeted nervously at his sides.

"Go ahead." Brienne exclaimed in her most pleasant voice.

It took him a few more moments to build his courage and when he did, he shook his head. "Forget it, it's rude."

"Is it the scar?" She knew that it attracted even more stares then she got before her maiming. "I got it during a battle, when a beast of a man bit me." Edric still did not look up and she knew that it was not the wound any longer. "Out with it, no need to be polite. I won't take any offence."

His blue eyes went over her body and he swallowed down his fear or manners. "Why do you dress like that?"

She then looked down at her own clothes, which were a simple pair of plain breeches with a leather jerkin pulled over a dark blue woolen tunic. "Because it's easier to fight in these clothes than a dress."

"Why are you fighting? You're a woman, shouldn't you be married and at your home?" Edric was remarkable blunt with his response and Brienne wished she had not indulged him.

"Thats rude, Edric." A melodious voice came from the tent flap and a handsome silver haired man strode into the room. "Now apologize."

Edric without faltering bowed his head to Brienne. "I'm sorry, I forget my tongue. Please forgive me, my Lady."

"It's no trouble, I asked him to be honest." She had known Edric was just voicing the thoughts most men had when they looked at her and it must have taken some kind of courage to be honest.

Aegon gently patted Edric on the head before he sat down. "I must apologize for my own manners now, I asked you to join me for supper and I'm terribly late." He bowed his head and retrieved a peach from the basket of fruit on the table.

Brienne felt taken aback by his manners as for the last week she had been a prisoner. While she was afforded a tent and bedroll to sleep in, she was still guarded day and night by armed guards. "It's no trouble, I was talking with your squire."

"He looks like Renly doesn't he?" Aegon exclaimed bluntly before he bit into the juicy peach. "Do you mind excusing us, Edric? You can bring us our supper in a little while."

Edric did not hesitate at Aegon's command and he turned and left the tent with haste. After Brienne was sure Edric was out of earshot she responded. "He does."

Aegon placed the peach back down on an empty plate and he wiped the juice from his chin with a silky cloth. "Ears are different, but I suppose that is his Florent mother. He's rather self conscious of them from what I've seen, likes to hide them with his hair you see." Brienne did not know how to respond to him so she took a sip of her wine and remained silent. "It seems a natural thing for children to do, hide their most self hated features." His violet eyes met her own. Then as his lips curved in a smile, she felt her cheeks flare. "I remember an awkward and shy girl from my youth. She used to keep her bangs long to hide her freckles, and when she would speak she would always cover her own mouth with her hands. I also seem to remember some rather cruel boys teasing her for it, and subsequently I remember each and every one of those boy running home bloody nosed and mayhaps missing a tooth."

Brienne paled under his gaze as she remembered the more painful times of her childhood. "And I remember a dour boy who never played with other children."

His mouth opened as a chuckle poured out. "I don't think I've ever been described as dour before. But we're getting off my subject." He brushed his silver hair back over his ears and raised a finger to his chin in thought. "I seem to remember Martyn Selmy exclaim to all that would listen, that he would take your maidenhead. I think the pot raised to ten stags that he would succeed."

"I'm sure you made your coin on that." Brienne remembered that poor memory. Martyn seemed so kind when she had met him, he even let her use his training sword. They had become fast friends and she had fallen for him soon after. Certain word reached her from the mouth of a servant, that he only meant to use her. So when he had invited her to the cove privately she knew he would pay.

He gently shook his head. "No, you figure me wrong, my Lady. I simply warned them that it would never work and that it was a cruel thing to do. Martyn was several years older than myself and quite a bit bigger then me too,"

"He wasn't bigger than me." Brienne murmured in disgust as she remembered his smug face before she pummeled it in.

Aegon chuckle rose again. "Right you are. But he threatened to thrash me if I told anyone or you. I innocently reminded him that your father wouldn't be pleased to know that a third born son had sullied his only daughter. So Martyn cracked me in the face and split my lip, and warned me that bastards ... should know their place."

"I gave him much more then that when he tried to kiss me." Brienne promised him and then she recounted what had happened fondly. "After we met, he told me that he was in love with me. I told him that I knew about the wager and he started crying and begged that I didn't tell my father." It brought a smile to her face as she remembered how it felt to punch him. "And I'm sure you remember what he looked like when he came back."

"Oh I do. Three missing teeth and a broken nose if memory serves." Aegon reached down and took another bite of his peach. "Do you remember his betrothed Shyra Estermont?"

That brought another smile to Brienne's face. "I do."

"Do you remember how he filled his pants during their first meeting at Storm's End?"

Brienne did, and it was one of her fondest memories as a child. It seemed like justice that a bully like him would be humiliated in such a manner, as when he first met his betrothed he gave a loud grunt and the foulest smell filled the small parlor they were in. "He was so embarrassed that he left the castle for home the next day."

Aegon nodded and exclaimed in an excited tone. "I had been spiking his drinks with greenroot all that morn, and as you might know it helps with constipation. So when he got down to one knee the pressure was far too severe for him to handle."

"Why did you do that?" Brienne asked as chuckle escaped her lips. She had thought it was the Seven answering her prayers that day.

He shrugged his shoulders and said. "My lip still hadn't healed and I wanted to make him pay."

It was an honest answer and rather simple reason, Brienne thought.  _But you've probably ruined their married life. At least his nose healed and his adult teeth grew in._  She knew it did no good to chide him in that, so she asked what she wanted to since he had arrived. "Are you truly Aegon Targaryen?"

"What do you think?" She had known him distantly since they were both children and she always remembered him as being dark and distant. But now he seemed confident and sure of himself in every movement, almost as if everything was planned and nothing was natural.

"I don't know." She had no other words for it. He had the silver hair she heard Prince Rhaegar Targaryen possessed and his eyes were of the distinct shade the Targaryen's were known for. "How could you still be alive?"

His smile grew as if he expected that question, which she was sure he had gotten a lot. "I was switched at birth."

"Why only you? You had an older sister too." Brienne's stomach then turned as she remembered the tale of how many times Rhaenys Targaryen had been stabbed.

"I'd asked the same question when I was younger. It was easier to find a babe of fair skin then it was of a dark skinned toddler." Aegon's lips tugged down and his eyes threatened to flutter. "But thats a sad tale and one I see no reason in dwelling on."

Silence had taken hold on the room, but to Brienne's relief, Edric had found his way back into the pavilion with two covered platters shortly after. "Boar stew cooked with apples and onions." Edric explained as he removed the tops and a delicious smell wafted out.

"Thank you, Edric." Aegon exclaimed and in response Edric bowed his head and left the pavilion again. They had both eaten in relative peace and quiet. Only the sounds of the wind and other noises from the camps were heard until he broke the peace. "So what were you doing all the way in the Riverlands?"

There it was, the one question she knew was coming, but Brienne did not know an answer she could give him. "I was travelling."

"And?"

Brienne struggled to think of a good lie as his violet eyes bore through her. "I ... I was trying to collect a bounty."

Aegon's eyes shut and he smirked at Brienne turning his head in amusement. "Really? I hope it wasn't Sansa Stark's bounty. Although I'm sure the bounty wasn't what was on your mind." She meant to speak back up but he silenced her with his gaze as he continued. "Don't lie to me, you're no good at it. Now who were those others you traveled with?" His tone was now hard and lacked it's grace.

"I didn't know those men. We thought those soldiers were going to attack the inn so we were simply defending it. They house orphans there and I would not sit by," Brienne did her best to keep her gaze aligned with his, trying to prove her innocence.

As his head bent over, the candles created long shadows under his eyes and Brienne realized that this man was not the old Maric who used to play his lute and sing in the gardens to break maidens hearts. "Why did you have the Lannister blade?"

Brienne bit her lip hard as she knew their was no way to explain herself. "It was given to me."

A dark and monotone snicker rang out and he said. "Jaime Lannister gave you his sword ... why?"

"He swore to bring the Stark girls back to their mother. He charged me with his honor-"

His snicker raised in pitch to full on laughter. "His honor? Jaime Lannister has honor? My grandfather was mad and Jaime had every right to end his reign, but he forsook his duties as a member of the Kingsguard."

"But you don't-"

"I wasn't finished, he had a duty to my mother to protect her children. And what did he do instead of protecting us from Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch? He sat on the throne while my mother was raped and my sister butchered. So don't tell me about his honor, for he has none." Aegon's voice was steel and before it Brienne felt she was wet parchment when no response came to mind. "And there's only one Stark girl left anymore, Sansa herself confided in me that her sister was never in King's Landing. And, the Gods have seen it amusing to let her slip through my fingers again."

"What do you mean by, 'slip through your fingers'?" Brienne had been searching for Sansa for nearly three months and she had not come close to finding her.

"Petyr Baelish had kidnapped her after Joffrey's wedding. He had hidden her away in the Vale and I planned to take her from him, but now she's gone missing from even there." He pushed his bowl of boar stew aside and locked eyes with Brienne. "Now tell me who you were with, for I know they have Sansa now."

 _You did it Jaime._ Brienne almost could not believe they had done it. "Why do you want her?" Brienne had to know regardless of the fact that she would not tell him what he wanted.

"Her bastard brother was legitimized and that means Stannis Baratheon has a Stark. I will be King and I can only be that if all the of Seven Kingdoms come back together, and I need the North to make that happen and they won't support me unless I find a Stark with a better claim as they won't bow to me unless their Starks do so first." His voice held no pause or stutter and she knew he was being honest with her with his intentions.

"I wish I knew who kidnapped her, for I would set out and find them myself. I made an oath to Jaime that I would find the girls and bring them to safety, and Gods be willing I will honor that oath." Brienne exclaimed and she felt no fear from Aegon's coming backlash.

"And where did you plan to bring them if you found them?" Aegon sounded amused and furious at the same time and she noted that his hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of the table.

"To their brother in the North." Brienne lied, and she felt that it was her most convincing lie yet.

Aegon stood from the table and began pacing back in forth. "I'll tell you one thing now. I won't let Stannis take another Stark from me." As Aegon finished his sentence, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked down at her. "Where are the Brotherhood without Banners?"

 _Tell him, he won't hurt her and he can save Pod and Ser Hunt for you._ It was her father's voice that advised her, and it seemed odd as she had not thought of his voice in a long time. But it did fill her with a warmth that she had not felt in a long time. "I don't know."

"Yes you do, now tell me." Aegon's voice was hurried and he seemed distracted. "Jaime went missing from his army, and is still missing to this day. You met up with him in the Riverlands didn't you?"

 _Just tell him, my daughter. He can be trusted._ Her father's voice kept exclaiming and it hurt her head to think about what he was saying. "I didn't, I ... I only went east to go look for Sansa."

"With Jaime and the Brotherhood. Don't lie to me, now tell me where the Brotherhood is and I will let you go on your way." His voice was nearly high enough to be a scream.

Brienne could not answer him as she was mesmerized by the line of red blood that dripped out of his right nostril. "You're bleeding."

Soon after he seemed to regain his composure as he wiped the blood away with silk. "Isn't that odd?" He murmured as he stared down at the red splotch. Without another word he sat back down across from Brienne and pulled his bowl of stew back to himself. "I'm sorry. But I need to know where Sansa is ... it could be a matter of life and death for her."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know where they're taking her." Brienne knew exactly where, but for Sansa's sake she knew that she needed to find her mother again. "What do you plan to do with me?"

His eyes seemed ragged and his eyelids fluttered as if he struggled to keep conscious, but his voice was still strong and coherent. "We are setting back out for the Riverlands tomorrow morn. I'll send word to your father and see what he wants me to do with you. He was always kind to me, even when he had no reason to be. So for his sake and for the history we share, I won't hold you for ransom, and if he wishes for me to let you go on your own way then I will."

"What of Jaime's sword?" Brienne knew that she had to bring it back to Jaime.

A tired smile crept to Aegon's lips as he stared into the stew. "That is no longer yours. When I find Sansa, I'll return it to her and hopefully it's second half when I recover that as well."

"How do you know that the sword is made from the Stark's sword?" Brienne asked as Jaime Lannister himself had only confided that horrifying truth to her and from what she had not heard it was not common knowledge in King's Landing.

"My Hand, Tyrion Lannister, told me. He may not have said it in so many words, but he wants his wife back." Aegon planted both hands on the table and pushed himself up to his feet. "Guards! Bring Lady Brienne back to her tent and serve her whatever food or drink she wants." In short order two men wearing the sigils of house Swann and House Targaryen crossed entered the pavilion. "And bring me the maester after he finishes with my unruly Lord. My head hurts, and send Edric in here for I need him to write a letter for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading. Be sure to leave a comment or review if you want, because it really kicks me into gear and gets me writing when I know people enjoy the story.


	30. The Ravenry

Samwell:

 

Sam clutched at the small box he had prepared for Archmaester Marwyn, while Alleras led him up the northern tower of the Ravenry. Marwyn was meant to give lessons on the myths of the Children of the Forest, the day before and while it was only Sam, Alleras, Mollander, Roone, Pate, and three others Sam did not know that showed up, it still seemed bad mannered. Alleras had brought up the good idea of bringing up some items he favored to start a conversation with the elusive man who had only become more secluded in the last few weeks. Alleras had went and bought him a pitcher of dornish red and a bundle of sourleaf, while Sam himself had picked up his letters that had gone unread.

"Do you see that?" Alleras asked as they continued climbing the stairs to Marwyn's chambers.

Sam looked around and didn't see anything out of the normal. "No what-" He stuttered as he looked to the iron and wood door at the top of the staircase. As the brown wood looked to be the color and richness of new mud after a rainstorm.

Alleras paused briefly to study the door, before he continued climbing. "He's using them again." Alleras muttered, and Sam stared at his own shadow as he climbed the stairs and it seemed to burrow a hole into the world.

"It frightens me sometimes." Sam admitted as they stopped before the mud brown door.

The dark skinned skinned novice hesitated before delivering several rapt knocks on the door, and after he did he briefly stared at his hand looking for traces of dirt. "It's Alleras and Samwell." The Sphinx exclaimed to silence on the other side of the door. "You missed our lesson." He added to continued silence.

They stood there for what felt like minutes to Sam's legs, so he himself added. "You have a letter from, Arthur Waters." Then in short order the door swung open and Marwyn stood before them, and he looked and smelled horrible to Sam. He didn't look as if he had seen the light of day for nearly a week, and his face was flushed.

"Come in and quickly." He told them and as soon as they were in the room he shut and bolt locked the door behind them. "What do you got there, Samwell?" Before Sam would respond Marwyn had taken the parcel from his hands and set it down on his table. "What did you say about a lesson?" He asked over his shoulder while he untied the string keeping the top on the parcel.

Sam couldn't answer as his gaze was drawn solely to the green candle of obsidian burning bright in the center of the room. "You had a lesson on the Children of the Forest yesterday." Alleras explained and just as he did, Marwyn opened the parcel and threw a piece of sourleaf into his mouth.

"Disgusting habit, you two would do well to not try it." Marwyn muttered and then he pushed the flagon of wine aside and tore open the letter with his knife. "You'll learn all you need to if you stick with me I assure you. The Children of the Forest are long gone from the world of men, and the only ones that could remain are in hiding. They were said to possess the ancient talent of greensight. They were of size with small children and they possibly had skin the color of nuts and were spotted like deers." Marwyn then seemed to trail off from his speech as he read the letter.

Sam still looked at the colors cascading around the room, and he slipped a strip of purple fabric out of his satchel to observe the changes. "Is something wrong?" Alleras asked, and to Sam's delight and fascination the purple coloring seemed to shine like fresh and plump grapes from the Arbor in the light of the candle.

"Yes, but nothing you need to worry about." The ox of a man exclaimed and he then stuffed the parchment into his belt. "Fascinating isn't it, Tarly?"

He felt an inner struggle in himself to look away, but forced himself to turn to Marwyn when he addressed him. "Yes, very much so. Have you been using it this entire time?"

Marwyn's head nodded once and he returned to a stool that was placed in front of the candle. "So much knowledge to learn, and so many secrets still hidden. Another one was lit not three days ago."

"Have you contacted them?" Alleras asked as he kneeled by Marwyn's side and closed his eyes.

"No, it's still weak. But it should only be so long now." Marwyn's light brown eyes shone a shade akin to tree bark as he studied the candle. "The power I must admit to you is quite intoxicating. I've tasted the finest of wines and the most seductive of women, but it pales before what I feel in front of this."

"You need to be careful then. You can't starve yourself studying it." Sam advised, but Marwyn didn't seem to register any of the worry he had.

Marwyn's muscled arms reached out and his hands trembled on the edge of touching the flames. "Can any of you see it? I can see it plain as day. A great mountain range stands before me, and all the hearts and minds of these countless men and women stand before me ... just waiting for a push in the right direction."

Alleras seemed to be getting frustrated as she strained herself to see what Marwyn saw. "I can't see anything besides the fire."

"Look past the fire and into the world around us, you can't limit yourself to the now or even here. You must look on and on and even further on then, to find what you wish." Sam studied Marwyn's eyes and they seemed to glaze over as if he truly wasn't looking at the flames. "You know how to look past what you've learned Samwell, now try and lose yourself in the world outside of this room." Marwyn kept urging him on and Sam tried to look past and through the flames at once.

Sam tried and forced himself to look past the flames, and as he did he thought of Gilly.

"Please wear the dress."It was his mother's voice in his head, and it made his heart skip a beat when he heard it.

"What was that?" Sam asked in fear and his eyes snapped open and he didn't know they had even been closed.

Alleras' own eyes snapped open and he looked at Sam in confusion. "Did something happen?"

"Did you not hear that? It was my mother's voice!" Sam exclaimed, but Alleras' face remained confused.

"I didn't hear anything. Are you sure you're not losing your mind?"

Marwyn let out a snicker and his own eyes snapped open. "It's intoxicating isn't it, Samwell?"

It was, and Sam hungered for it more than a good book and even Gilly. "I heard my mother's voice. I was thinking of Gilly, but I didn't see or even hear her."

"You sent her to Hornhill didn't you? I'm guessing your mother is there too, correct?"

"I believe so, Archmaester Marwyn." Sam hoped she was, as he knew his mother would welcome Gilly and the baby into Hornhill if she thought it was Sam's bastard.

Marwyn chuckled and his knees seemed weak as he stood up from his stool. "Then you heard your mother speaking with that girl Gilly. You broke into her mind and heard what she heard. Very impressive, Tarly." He then stumbled over to his work spaced and drank from the flagon directly.

Alleras seemed to be in shock, but he moved over to Marwyn's side. "You can look into minds of other's?"

"It seems to be the first step as you learn to use it. First comes hearing, and then eventually you learn to see through their eyes." Marwyn threw another piece of sourleaf into his mouth. "It hurts to hold on for even seconds, but if you can force yourself through the pain you can get to a higher level of learning."

"And what comes next? If you can get through the pain that is?" Sam had to know, as this could change the very world they live in.

Marwyn spat out a large reddish ball of saliva and sourleaf residue that looked of copper in the light of the candle, into a pot that was nearly filled with the substance already. "You can talk to the mind you're in. In any voice you choose, it can be a friend, lover, father, or mother. It puts an incredible strain on the mind though and can't be held for long. I've found the pain lessens when the target is sleeping."

"This is an incredible discovery, we could use this." Alleras exclaimed in excitement. "I need to see this for myself." He then returned to the side of the obsidian candle that still lit and changed the room to it's will.

"Aye, but it's dangerous. Any time one of them is activated the other three know it, and we don't know if each other are listening. So when we use it you must be careful what you say and who to."

"Can it be used any further than talking?" Sam had heard legends that told of men being able to control animals, and it excited him to no end.

Marwyn's eyes fell heavy and he seemed to be reluctant to answer, but he did all the same. "I've only pushed it to two people at once, and ... it is not advisable." Marwyn spit again and then threw another piece of the sourleaf into his mouth. "The strain made me black out, and it does much harm to the recipients as well. So for now I won't push it further in that respect."

 _I could talk to Jon._ Sam knew that he had to try, as no real information had come from the North of late. "How far can you go?" Sam asked.

"I've reached as far as the Jade Gates. So in theory, with enough practice you could reach anyone anywhere." Marwyn truly looked beaten down, and his hands had even begun trembling. Though he did try to hide it by retreating his hands into the sleeves. "Is there someone you had in mind?"

Sam nodded and explained. "My friend Jon, he was marching off to war the last time I saw him and that was nearly three months ago. So I was hoping to speak with him."

Marwyn quickly shook his head. "You misunderstood me, Samwell. It's not a conversation like the one you and I are having. It's only one way, you speak to them, but they can't speak back to you." He forced himself back up and led Sam back over to the obsidian candle. "And unless he's in the Reach, I don't think you'll be able to find him. It's astounding that managed to reach Hornhill already. But with a bit of practice and focus, you'll manage it."

As he sat down in the stool that Marwyn had abandoned, Sam looked closely at the flames and kept staring until he lost himself like before.  _You've seen the cold winds rising yourself, Samwell Tarly of Hornhill._ The voice was low and smooth in his head, and it scared him enough to tip the stool over.

The sound of Sam hitting the hard ground was loud enough to wake Alleras from his trance. "Sam, are you alright?" He reached down and helped Sam back to his feet, while Marwyn looked on in surprise.

"What was it, Samwell?" Marwyn asked.

"I-I don't know. It was someone's voice in my head. I think it was a woman." Sam truly didn't know, as it had shocked and surprised him too much. "It wasn't like my own voice, but it felt like someone speaking in my head." It made him feel lightheaded and the overbearing feel on the room coupled with the strange effect the candle had on colors, made him want to leave. "I need some air." Without waiting for any response and he turned and left the room.

After he had climbed down the stairs he heard Marwyn call out from behind him. "Slow down." Sam wanted to, but he couldn't. So he walked out of the Ravenry and stood on the wooden drawbridge and looked out over the Honeywine river. "What did you hear?" Marwyn asked as he caught up to Sam.

"She knew my name. She said that I've seen the cold winds rising." Her voice was chilling and it scared him to think anyone could do that.

Marwyn chuckled and dropped a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's what happens when you use the candles to speak to someone. Only difference is that I use the voices of people familiar to them." Marwyn shook Sam out of his stupor and forced him to look at him. "And while I have no way of knowing who exactly spoke to you, as they can change their voices just as I can. I can tell you that they don't mean any true harm."

Sam didn't know if he still wanted to use the candles after hearing that voice. So he tried to change the subject while they both looked down the massive river. "They say the Ironborn are going to attack again."

"I'm sure they will. Their new King isn't as daft as the old one, he knows that true wealth lies in the Reach and it's just waiting to be taken. I'd finish my studies as fast as I could if I was you, and then I'd get as far from Oldtown as possible."

"Why are you staying then?"

Marwyn shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at Sam. "I won't be staying for much longer. I need to return to Aegon I feel. It's a pity I won't be here to teach you and Alleras more." Marwyn retrieved another piece of sourleaf and offered it to Sam, but he turned it down. "Keep your head down, and make sure no one knows of what you've learned of the glass candles. We've already talked of their true motivations and they would love to remove another crinkle in their perfect world."

"What are you planning to do?" Sam had heard that no vessels were leaving harbor until the Redwyne fleet arrived.

"I'll be taking one of the candles with me, and I suppose I'll take a carriage up to the Riverlands." Marwyn said it as if it was no small feat or thing.

"You're stealing a glass candle? Won't they be cross with you when they learn the truth?" Sam knew that Marwyn didn't care one bit what the hierarchy thought of him, but outright theft seemed a step too far even for him to get away with.

"Bugger them. They can't light the damn things, so they serve no purpose staying with them. Alleras is nearly done with his chain, and the time will come where he has to try to light one. I hope he will succeed, but I have my doubts if I'm to be honest." Marwyn exclaimed unabashedly. "It is a pity he won't have the chance to truly study it in depth. He's always had a good work ethic and has never failed to be diligent in all his studies."

He was starting to realize what direction Marwyn was taking this conversation in. "And you think I can light it."

Marwyn's vision drifted to the side and he briefly nodded his head. "I'll still be able to keep an eye on the city through you. I hope you can get over your fear of the voices in that time."

"Do you have to go?" Sam knew that he had no right to say it, but he had grown fond of the man in time that he had known him.

His red stained teeth were on full display as he bellowed out in laughter. "Aye, I do. My Egg needs wise counsel more and more these days I fear. He's always been attracted to danger and I've always feared what would result in it. I used to blame myself for it, but in time I realized that it was just the way of the Targaryens." Marwyn's tone soon turned somber as he stared down into the watery depths. "Well shall we go and see how Alleras has done?"

All Sam could do was nod, and then soon after he turned and followed Marwyn back into the ancient castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading. Be sure to leave a comment or review if you want, because it really kicks me into gear and gets me writing when I know people enjoy the story.


	31. The River Runs Red

Tyrion:

 

"He's coming up the road, M'lord." Called out a plump looking guard who had a face that resembled the roundness a pie.

Tyrion simply nodded and clutched at the torn banner of House Frey of Riverrun. Whose standard was a three towered castle over a rushing river of red and blue. They had taken control of the castle with all their forces not two weeks past, and when they had arrived the castle and army outside its gates were in complete disarray and they hadn't the faintest clue that they were coming. The field had been littered with the bodies of wolves and Tyrion had organised his men after the short skirmish to count the corpses. _We found your wolves it seems._ Tyrion had mentioned to Bennard Brune, but the man responded with the fact that it wasn't anywhere near the whole host of beasts.

When the word had arrived that Aegon was returning to the Riverlands, Tyrion had organized a welcoming to their king. "How many men?" Tyrion called out to his squire who in turn shouted his question to the gate men.

"Looks to be terty on horses." Shouted back the same man as earlier.

Tyrion nodded his head and looked to the gate; which was still open and in disrepair. It had taken a few more minutes and Tyrion knew that he was getting progressively closer as the cheers got louder. When the line of cavalry had entered the gates, Tyrion noted that Aegon was leading them while Branton and Bryce Brune were flanking him. "My King." Tyrion proclaimed and without pause he dropped to his knee and was followed by the entire courtyard in attendance.

His head bobbed back and forth from the crowd, to Tyrion, and then to the castle before he responded. "Tyrion, seems my trust in you was more then well placed." He exclaimed in a steely voice and Tyrion feared that something truly was amiss. Aegon then climbed down from his horse, and a Pyne soldier retrieved it and led it away. After removing his night black helmet his silver hair looked matted and dirty from the ride, but Tyrion couldn't help but feel it only added to his appeal and beauty. "And if your recent performance is a foresight into what you'll be as my Hand during peace, then I do say you'll be the greatest Hand to ever live." His voice broke into it's lighthearted tone as he chuckled, and it was echoed by those in attendance.

"I do my best." Tyrion exclaimed as Aegon neared him. "We'll need to call a council and then set up a court soon thereafter to deal with all the captives." Tyrion knew that Aegon didn't know the specifics of the massacre that had happened here, but he would soon need to know all.

"Of course." Aegon responded and turned back to the line that followed him. "Edric, go get some food for yourself." He called out to the black haired squire. Who was dressed in a deep blue gambeson that was lined with bright yellow.

Tyrion turned to Dareon Butterwell, who was the younger brother and representative of Addison Butterwell the Lord of the once great castle Whitewalls. "Make the Great Hall ready for court, we'll call it to attendance in one hour. So be sure that the prisoners are ready." 

"At once." He exclaimed and waited for Tyrion to lead Aegon away before returning to his feet. Dareon had come to swear his house and his own services to Aegon. He had told Tyrion that he served as the Castellan of Whitewalls before he departed, so Tyrion had given him the job of maintaining Riverrun while they garrisoned there. Not many wanted the job as it wasn't particularly glorious job or one that gained you respect or glory, so Tyrion was very happy to find someone of high birth who wanted it.

As Tyrion led Aegon into the castle, he noted Aegon's nose perk up in disgust. "We've been doing our very best to ... clean the aftermath. But it has taken time, and we didn't expect you to ride ahead of the army."

Aegon tried to ignore the smell, although Tyrion could tell by how he carried his shoulders it made him uncomfortable. "You'll need to explain everything to me."

It didn't take long for Tyrion and Aegon to make it to the private chamber above the Great Hall, and when they did Tyrion called for wine and Aegon called for iced milk sweetened with honey. "Are you hungry from the ride? I had some excellent trout this morn with lemons."

He shook his head and sipped the cold white liquid placed before him. "I'm fine. Now ... I need you to explain, why in fucks sake are there hundreds of rotting and mangled bodies still in the fields outside the castle? And while you're at it, why don't you tell me what happened during the wedding? I've heard it was rather eventful for the guests."

 _I told them to bury those bodies._ Tyrion cursed his luck that Aegon had to ride ahead today instead of staying with his army. He had hoped to hide those and explain it in simple words. "We were nearly a week late after we heard news of what happened." Tyrion had ran the soldiers as fast as possible to seize control of the situation, before it deteriorated further. Unfortunately they had come upon the castle when it was fighting itself. "Rather more eventful than they had hoped." Tyrion jested and to his despair it didn't faze Aegon's stern face. "I've heard rumors and whispers of poisonings, assassinations, and even witchcraft."

Aegon's face didn't break into worry, anger, or even joy, as he asked Tyrion. "Who survived?"

 _Not many._ Tyrion had felt a strange pang in his heart as he remembered the face of his aunt Genna Lannister and the crude slash across her throat. Her husband Emmon had not gotten away so easily and his bald head had been smashed repeatedly into the table until it was unrecognizable, save only for his cloak which identified him. "My aunt Genna and her husband were murdered along with several others during the feast. Some were poisoned, but those who either didn't drink were executed."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Aegon muttered while he touched his chin in apparent thought.

Tyrion nodded his thanks and went on. "The bride and groom; Daven Lannister and Jayne Frey had been found naked and swinging from the rafters of their bedding room. I've heard that the proof of the consummation was evident on the sheets and the dried blood on her thighs. Though no one suffered such as Whalen Frey who was tied to four stakes in the courtyard and looked to be torn asunder from the beasts that feasted on him."

Aegon's eyes drifted to the far window over Tyrion's shoulder, and he looked to be in deep thought. "That pack of wolves, is that what you mean by beasts?" Tyrion nodded so Aegon continued. "It was the Brotherhood without Banners." Tyrion nodded again and Aegon's lips tugged downwards. "How did they get in the castle?"

Tyrion didn't know, but he wanted to. As did the remaining garrison and soldiers, because they were left nearly leaderless. "No one knows. I thought it was the servants, but I've no proof." Aegon's eyes still shined as he watched the light snow fall and he didn't respond. "I've gotten reports of them moving north. And where they go the wolf pack doesn't stray far behind."

Aegon shifted uncomfortably in his seat at Tyrion's words. "And we're going south."

"We are."

His violet eyes shifted and appeared conflicted and he replied. "For now, we'll let this Brotherhood go unhindered. But their actions must be condemned for now, lest the small folk think us as bad as Freys." Aegon's soft eyes turned dark as he asked. "Who was captured?"

"Alesander Frey, Lyonel Frey, Leslyn Haigh, and Tywin Frey." It pained him to tell Aegon.

Aegon's lips twitched before he responded. "I understand Lyonel and Tywin share close blood with you."  

Tyrion nodded his head and thought of his aunt's smiling face as he said back. "They are." Lyonel Frey was his cousin, and Tywin or Ty as his mother called him was Genna's grandson. But Tyrion knew they soon would be nothing. Tyrion was happy that the young Red Walder was still in Casterly Rock serving as a page.

It didn't seem to faze Aegon one way or the other, although Tyrion knew it affected him more then he would allow shown. "If you would like to speak on their behalf I will allow it now." His voice was strong and certain.

Tyrion wished he could, if only for his aunt, but no words would leave his mouth. "When will you judge them?"

"Today." It surprised Tyrion that he was so ready to be done with it. "The River Lord's intentions and desires are certain. They will have their Lannister and Frey blood, and they will have it soon." He himself didn't sound certain though he truly never was with himself. "And I don't mean to deny it to them."

"You are the King." Tyrion reminded him gently. "And you don't need their approval, only their words." He knew he couldn't push him too hard either way as Marwyn had advised him back in Braavos.  _The harder I pushed, the more I alienated him from the world. Never in my life have I met a boy such as him ... uncertain of every move he makes and even more so his regret of past actions he's botched. He'd spend hours by his window staring up at the sky feeling pity and sadness if I'd let him._ Marwyn's advice never left Tyrion's mind long when he would think of Aegon and the front the world believed of him.

"I will do my duties to my people and I will not rob them of the justice they desire." He stood from the table. Tyrion knew he was nervous and unsure even while words continued to pour out, "They were robbed of their family ... and now I will rob the Freys and Lannisters of their freedom and lives." Aegon paused in mid motion as if he waited for Tyrion's coming word. "Did you get my last letter?"

Tyrion did and it conflicted with all the reports and rumors he had heard. "I've already made the necessary arrangements ... are you sure it's true?" Tyrion knew it was selfish and he knew it wrong of him, but it made him angry that he was robbed of another woman, this time by Petyr Baelish.

Aegon seemed to hesitate before he nodded. "Sadly my friend, it is."

"And it must be kept between us?" Tyrion asked though he knew the answer.

"It must. For a time that is ... or it will hurt my standing with my new Lords." Aegon seemed to hold much regret in his heart, though Tyrion knew he did the best any could manage in his circumstances. "Have you sent my letter to Doran Martell?"

It was a sudden question and one Tyrion was nearly unprepared for. "I have, and it was worded as you desired. Though I thought it rather-"

Aegon interrupted with a wave of his his hand. "I know how it sounded and how he will read it." He was angry and frustrated and Tyrion knew their was no way around it.

The word had spread even faster than news of Riverrun did.  _By order of the High Septon, Margaery of house Tyrell; daughter of Mace Tyrell and Alerie Hightower is guilty of the crime of adultery by her first husband; Joffrey of Baratheon. Let it be known that from this day forward Margaery Tyrell is formally excommunicated from the true faith._ The letter read loud and powerful, and it was an ingenious move on behalf of the High Septon. He wanted it to be known that they would no longer be overlooked, but he couldn't execute Margaery or the Tyrell army would descend on him. It scrambled several plans and he would have been lying if he didn't both dread and welcome this new player. _  
_

"This news isn't the end of your Tyrell venture." Tyrion assured him to bolster his confidence, as Aegon always considered it one of his greatest moments. Though the Tyrells had been very despondent and hadn't returned either of their letters. Tyrion didn't know if it was because of the Ironborn or if they had simply changed their minds, but it mattered not at the immediate moment. "Your uncle Doran will undoubtedly send diplomat now." Tyrion wondered if it was worth it, but he went further. "I've heard Arianne Martell is very beautiful."

A snicker left his lips and Tyrion was relieved as Aegon's smile broke his facade. "And I've heard quite a bit more than that. Tales of a temptress who steals the hearts of men so lucky to catch her eyes." It broke a chuckle from both men, but Aegon sighed and reminded Tyrion in his stern voice, Tyrion was used to. "But I'm not marrying for attraction or love. I'm marrying for support to bring peace back to the Kingdoms."

Tyrion nodded and chuckled. "I know that well. It was just a simple jest, Aegon."

They had then conversed for a while longer. Aegon had regaled Tyrion of his stories from the Vale,  and of his battle where he slew Lyn Corbray and of how he used his sword to fight the foolish Harrold Hardyng. Tyrion himself had told Aegon of the efforts of winning the people to his side. But eventually a knock on the door and a word telling that the court was assembled. After finding their places in the Great Hall, the easier and more pleasant tasks of the day were to start.

The first up was the first to swear loyalty and that was Tytos Blackwood. Tyrion didn't think much of the man, but told Aegon he should be somewhat rewarded for being the first of the River Lords to swear for them. So as such, Aegon ordered that the original land borders from before the War of Five Kings be restored. The Brackens were obviously angry as they had just so recently received those lands, but as the Boulderfist Brune not so subtly reminded them. "You'll all remember good and well that you serve a different King now."

Tytos had brought his son Edmund and his daughter Bethany, and Tyrion figured he hoped to attempt a match like most of the Lords did. But unfortunately for him, Aegon didn't have time to wait for a ten year old to flower, so he was politely turned down. It had been mildly amusing for Tyrion to watch all the Lords bend their knees and swear everlasting loyalty to Aegon. Those with daughters hoped for a marriage, and those who didn't have daughters hoped for Harrenhal, Darry, and even Riverrun itself. But they were all denied as Aegon had turned down all in favor of his and Tyrion's own plans for the lands. Jonos Bracken had been much more blunt on his desire as he had brought nearly all of his daughters with him to try to tempt Aegon.

After the pleasantries were over they had called for the highborn prisoners to be brought forth. Ty Frey looked dirty and ragged and had a gash in his hairline, that had angered Tyrion. He knew that Tywin had been young, but he looked to be barely ten and one. The crowd still sneered at the Haigh and Freys alike, despite the fact that there was a child with them, that was on the receiving end of the barbs and insults. When Tyrion looked up to Aegon who was seated high above the rest, he didn't know if it was good or bad that he wore a look of difference.

It had went swiftly and clean. Tywin and Alesander claimed no part in the Red Wedding which Tyrion knew to be true. Lyonel Frey who was Tyrion's cousin, claimed no wrongdoing in the Red Wedding and tried claimed that the Freys did what they had to when the Northmen turned to wolves and attacked them. His lie was not received well and many threw insults at him, but none were so poor for his health as the look of dissatisfaction that marred Aegon's face. Ser Leslyn Haigh told a similar story and of how all the Lords in attendance would get theirs when the Crown destroyed them. It hadn't taken long for Aegon to give them their death sentence and the assembled Lords and Ladies all cheered and talked of how wise and clever Aegon was like they were trained crows.

"With that, I now call the court dismissed." Aegon exclaimed after they had led the prisoners back to their cells. Aegon could hide his true feelings to most, but Tyrion knew it pained him when Ty Frey began to sob and cry on the way out of the room. "I thank you all for your attendance. And I trust I will see you all at supper tonight." Without another word, he stood from the high seat and climbed down the stairs to the floor. After handing his crown to Edric he ushered for Tyrion to follow while Edric tagged along far enough behind to not eavesdrop.

"I'll give the Lords of the Riverlands three more days. And if any have still not thrown themselves before me, then they will pay after I take King's Landing." Aegon turned up the stairs to the meeting chamber again.

Tyrion knew that it would change after the fact, regardless of what Aegon said he would do. "Very good."

After they had found their way to the top of the stairs, a guard called down from the bottom of the staircase. "Your Grace! A rider has requested a word with you. Shall we send him away?" At his word Aegon's head hung and he sighed.

"Who is it?" Tyrion asked.

The guard shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know M'lord. He claims we're in his home."

Aegon stepped past Tyrion and walked down the steps following after the guard. "Bring me to him."

Edric followed after Aegon like a lost puppy Tyrion felt as he watched the black haired boy run after his king.  _Hard to tell his father once killed Aegon's._ Tyrion wondered if it was worth going along to watch a former household guard or knight swear to Aegon. But he decided it made little sense to sit around by himself so he followed after.

He had led them to the courtyard and near the stables was a rough looking man that seemed familiar to Tyrion. "Do you have a name, Ser?" Aegon asked with all the manners he had been talked.

The grey haired man was downing a skin of water and after he had finished it, he nodded and informed him. "Aye I do, Brynden Tully if it pleases you. And I do believe you're in my family's castle."

A threat of a smirk was on Aegon's lips. "You're the Blackfish Tully?"

Brynden nodded and made of a point of looking over Aegon. "I am, and I presume you're this gift from the Gods that the smallfolk speak of. I expected you to be seven feet tall and built like a castle ... can't say I'm impressed."

Tyrion worried for what Aegon would say to that, but it seemed to amuse him as a defensive smirk broke. "I had heard you were captured when Riverrun fell. The story is that you're held in captivity along with your nephew and his wife in Casterly Rock."

"Lannisters are liars." Brynden exclaimed and made a point of looking at Tyrion when he did. "And I see the truth of the Imp siding with you is true." He then turned to talk to Tyrion. "You'd side against your own kin, Lannister? What kind of man are you?"

"I'm what they made me, Ser. They sided against me first, and I'm merely returning their favor." Tyrion wasn't willing to play another game of finger pointing with another man of so called honor. "Why are you here Brynden Tully?"

Brynden looked back to Aegon to give his simple answer. "I want my home back."

A snicker came from Aegon's lips and he replied. "As do I, Ser. So does my Hand for that matter, I think most reasonable men want what should be theirs." Tyrion knew Aegon made a blunder with his words.

Just like the soldier he was, Brynden didn't miss it or let it go to waste. "Just as you say. Riverrun belongs to the Tullys, not you or anyone else."

"My army is garrisoning it. The Lords of the Riverlands are paying me their fealty, so until i say differently this castle is mine." Aegon's smirk was even brighter and Tyrion felt it must have irritated Brynden to know end, as Aegon was on a mission now. "So I offer this to you. Swear to me, and I'll be sure this castle doesn't fall into anyone else's hands."

Brynden to his credit, wasn't shaken or deterred from his cause. "I had a King and he was slain,"

"And I'm the only King you need, my Lord." Rung Aegon's confident voice. "I've excelled at turning former enemies to friends so far. So I ask that the Tullys of Riverrun remember just who they fought with to free themselves from the Ironborn."

"I ask you to remember which family was burning men and women alive, while stealing brides from their beds." Brynden didn't seem to be willing to budge on his determination like the true soldier he was.

Tyrion felt that this was only endearing the man to Aegon. "And you were well within your right to end his tyrannical reign, but not his children and grandchildren's lives, Ser." Aegon motioned for Brynden to follow him away from the courtyard, and he begrudgingly followed. While Tyrion and Edric followed behind and listened to the two men. "Do you see that black haired boy back there?" Aegon asked and looked to Edric who put on his best look of pride. "That is Robert Baratheon's bastard son; his name is Edric Storm. And yet I don't hate him for what his father did. Did I kill him and smile over his corpse? No I took him into my household, and plan to legitimize him as a true Baratheon."

"Your kindness knows no limit, your Grace." Replied Brynden sarcastically.

Aegon kept walking, and before long they had found their way into the Great Hall. "So what is it you what exactly, Ser Brynden? Riverrun for nothing?"

"I want what belongs to my family. And thats Riverrun and rulership over the Riverlands."

Aegon simply shook his head. "I cannot just give that to you, and even if I could I wouldn't. Your family owes a sign of loyalty, and your ties with the Starks keeps me wary of you." It did more than that, but Tyrion knew it best not to show too much.

Brynden didn't seem to register what Aegon was saying as he responded. "The Starks I loved are gone. So your worry is misplaced."

"Is it? Jon Stark is still alive and he's declared for Stannis, I can't allow the Riverlands to follow this Stark against me." Aegon exclaimed.

The Blackfish shook his head and explained. "I have no love for this bastard, he's not of my blood like Robb and the rest of my Cat's children were."

"And how do we know?" Tyrion asked. "How do we know you won't turn your cloak for the Starks and Stannis as soon as we turn south? Show us a sign of your loyalty."

Brynden seemed to be fighting a battle with himself, but Aegon pushed him along further. "Your nephew is held in captivity, in Casterly Rock. After the war I could either welcome him back into the realm as the Lord of the Riverlands ... or I could charge him with high treason against me. It is your choice to make, Ser Brynden."

"And do you swear it?" Brynden asked as he stared directly into Aegon's eyes.

Aegon nodded and jutted his hand out. "This day and everyday until we free him." Brynden nodded his head and grasped Aegon's hand in a show of respect. "Now I must ask something of you. Help me find and destroy this Brotherhood without Banners, and I'll swear to every god there ever was that Edmure will be Lord again. And I swear that the Freys will pay tenfold for what they've done."

Brynden knees bent and he dropped to the floor and bowed his head. "If that is your request then I must accept. From this day until my last day, I swear my loyalty to you and your house."

It went perfectly and Tyrion knew Aegon would be beaming about this for days to come. "Then rise Brynden Tully, for I name you my master-at-arms." After Brynden had returned to his feet Aegon issued his first order to the man. "We have four days to find and destroy the Brotherhood, can you manage it?"

Brynden's eyes clouded over and to Tyrion he seemed to be having regrets already. "It will be more than enough if we set out today."

"Then we will." Aegon exclaimed and then he turned to Tyrion. "Make sure Brynden is given all the respect he is owed and make sure the word spreads of his new authority."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading. Be sure to leave a comment or review if you want, because it really kicks me into gear and gets me writing when I know people enjoy the story.


	32. The Stark of Winterfell

Jon:

 

"It was a lie, I broke my vows for a lie!" Jon roared in anger as he battered Black Donnel around the training ground.

Donnel struggled to fend Jon's assault off and managed to reply. "You couldn't have known. None of us did, but we still need you."

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death." Jon repeated his vow, as he smashed Donnel's shield from his hand, and then he kicked him in the shin and dropped him to his knees. After placing his training sword to Donnel's neck, Jon threw the blunt blade away and turned to leave.

The battle had gone fairly well, as the Bolton's forces were broken in the crofters village they had fought in. But to Jon all their own losses were far too many for a damned lie. Hugo Wull had fought against Hosteen Frey and if not for the damned snowfall Jon would have too. Wull's axe had bit deep into Hosteen's shoulder, and the bull of a man paid it no more heed then he would a fly. With a swing of his sword he had split Hugo's head open. After Jon made it to the man, they engaged in a clash of steel. Only after he had exchanged a few blows with the large man had he noticed an axe sticking in the man's leg that immobilized him. Jon felt it was Hugo's last gift to help him, and helped it did. Though it was a difficult fight, due to the heavy snow that had nearly blinded him and if it wasn't for Ghost, Jon wouldn't have made it around the man's tower shield. He had eventually killed the man with a riposte through the throat.

After they had survived the initial chaos of the first cavalry charge, Jon had did his best to reorganize his wildings in a spear line to intercept the next attack. He had held the left flank, while Stannis held the center, and on the right was Crowfood who had masterfully laid several traps for the attackers to run into. Unfortunately Arnolf Karstark had shown his true loyalties and turned on them, and even tried to send his men to assassinate Stannis. Fortunately they had repelled the attack out of their lines and forced them forward, and they were soon left leaderless and broken after a supposed wildling woman killed him on the end of her spear. Soon after Hothor Whoresbane had switched sides right before the conflict started and was on the enemy's left flank, so he and his brother had brought the whole of their troops to the center and smashed it. Stannis' word of the stupidity of Hosteen proved true, as no sane man would have had two brothers fight each other on the same flank and expect no treachery.

As he walked away, Jon heard Donnel call out. "You couldn't have known. None of us did, but that doesn't mean we still don't need you!" 

Jon didn't stop and kept walking through the courtyard of Winterfell and he felt like crying when he thought of how stupid he was.  _Of course, it wasn't true. It was just a lie._  He had heard many of the Northern Lordsissue greetings, but he didn't care to hear them and instead turned towards the dungeons. As he neared Ser Richard Horpe's hand went to his sword along with the dozen or so guards with him.

"Stay back, Lord Stark. I've been ordered not to let you pass by our King."

Jon knew that, but he didn't care and would have his answers from the Bastard and Roose both before he left for the Wall. "Stand out of my way," Jon ordered, and although he had no sword he didn't care how many of them there were for nothing would stop him.

The head of Richard Horpe's throat bobbed and Jon knew he was nervous. "I told you I can't. You can't be trusted with them, just show patience and-"

"Until I leave for the Wall, I am the Lord of this castle ... now stand aside, I won't ask you again." Jon warned and clenched both fists hard, just imagining how the man's pock riddled face would shift from his punch.

It looked as if Richard meant to act against Jon first, and Jon himself had even prepared himself. But to his relief, Richard stepped aside and said just above a hush. "Don't kill them. Not yet at least."

Without another word, Jon opened the iron studded oaken door to the dungeons, and grabbed a lit torch from the wall to lead him. The dungeons had been overcrowded since they had taken the castle by surprise in the dead of the night. As he traveled through the dark halls and cells, Jon had found Roose Bolton first and the man had looked simply despondent. Roose had only tilted his head up to look at the source of light and when he saw Jon, his head fell back down. "I suppose you're here to kill me now. Or perhaps you came for an explanation."

Jon hated this man, and with every breath, he remembered that this man was the one who killed Robb. "Did the Lannisters ever have my sister?"

Roose's cold and icy eyes scanned the floor of the cell before he shook his head. "From what Lord Tywin told me, she's dead and has been for a long time. After your father was arrested, she went missing."

It had hit Jon harder than he knew it should have. He always felt in his heart that it was too good to be true. That his sister was still alive, just waiting for him to save her. After he had led the best men through the secret exit of the crypts into Winterfell, they had seized the gate and thrown it open for Stannis' army to go through. Jon had Ghost to thank for finding the secret crypt door, and when they found it Jon had thought luck would see fit to leave it locked. But to Jon's surprise the door was unlocked and it was simple to find their way through it. When he was younger it had always scared him and he always thought he didn't belong. But when he looked upon the faces of his aunt Lyanna Stark and of Torrhen Stark; grandson of Brandon the daughterless, he felt as if they were welcoming him.

After they had poured into the castle the defenders did their best to mount a defense, but it was for naught. During the fighting, Jon had wanted to go look for either Roose or Ramsay, but he instead snuck into the Great Keep through an open window with several wildlings. They had run into several enemies and Jon nearly lost an eye while fought against a whip wielding man. After searching several rooms they found a gangly looking man sitting and cowering in the corner that begged for mercy. When Jon asked for his name the snow white haired man looked up to him and told him his name was 'Reek', and in that moment Jon knew he had found what ever was left of Theon. In the room that had once been Robb's, Jon thought he had found Arya, as the girl had brown hair and it had angered him to no end when he saw the long lashes and bites on her back. Jon had despaired for what she was put through and even more rage had coursed through him, but it all soon turned to shock when the girl turned to look at him and he saw brown eyes filled with fear looking back at him. Stannis' zealous followers had voiced their desires to give the false Arya and Roose's wife Walda to the flames, but Stannis thankfully shut them down quickly and kept them under close watch in modest chambers in the Great Keep.

After the battle had concluded several hundred men were dead, and Ramsay Bolton was missing a hand. The story was that Black Donnel had tossed an axe that severed his hand, and Donnel had confided in Jon sheepishly that it wasn't him, but he wished it had been. Somewhere in Jon's heart, he wondered if it was the ghost of Hugo Wull making good on his promise. Jon had thanked the Gods that night because he feared they would steal what was his, but he has his vengeance soon, and the maester with them said Ramsay would live to see the end of Jon's sword or the fires of Stannis' pyre.

"Why did you betray my brother?" Jon had to know, even if it wouldn't make him feel better he just needed to hear what explanation this monster had.

Roose simply shrugged and sat up higher against the stonewall. "I saw that the war was lost. I had an opportunity to advance myself, my family, and save the lives of my soldiers."

Jon wanted to smack the man, but instead he said. "The lives of your soldiers? You don't care about them, you only care about yourself and your beast of a son."

"Ramsay is more than a beast. I've known that for many years now. If anything, he is the worst possible thing I ever could have had for a son." Roose looked directly in Jon's eyes and Jon knew he held no compassion for Ramsay. "I had another son once. Domeric was his name. I've never been one for anything so trivial as compassion or love, but if I ever felt that way it was for him. He was everything a father could want for a son, and maybe some part of me mayhaps wished I was akin to him at that age." Jon witnessed what looked to be a look of disgust or anger on the Leech Lord's face as he continued. "I always knew it was Ramsay that did him in. He knew that without Domeric he would be my last progeny, and he saw it as an opportunity to advance himself. I wished every time that I looked upon him that I could strangle the life out of him myself, but he knew very well that I wouldn't doom my lineage to nothing."

"And now your fears have come to life all the same." Jon took a feeling of pleasure that scared him when he told the pale man that. "So was it worth it? All this death and destruction for a careless gamble that destroyed you?"

Roose looked as if he almost meant to laugh, but didn't. "I had you wrong, Jon Stark. I thought you were a man that could lead the North, but I can now see you're just a naive boy like your brother was."

"Watch your tongue. You don't have the right to speak his name after what you've done." Jon warned threateningly as he gripped the cold iron bars. "And what makes you think I'm naive? I managed to best you."

"Your brother bested Tywin Lannister on the battlefield more times than I can remember, but he lost all the same. You spoke of a careless gamble as if the results of every plan and move are certain before you enact them. Everything is a gamble in this world of ours. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, Lord Stark. But I promise you in the end we all lose, whether it be for love, glory, power, or the pursuit of adventure ... we still lose and then we die in the end." To Jon's surprise Roose saw fit to pull himself up from the floor and he walked close to the bars separating them. "So tell me Lord Stark. Do you think King Tommen Baratheon, King Euron, King Aegon, or even King Stannis would have balked at the opportunity I was given?"

"I don't know any of those men, only Stannis, and he is a man of conviction and honor and he would never do the things you've done," Jon replied firmly and he knew in his heart that his father and Robb would never as well.

Roose's eyes hovered on Jon's face for a moment before they closed and he responded slightly above a whisper. "And that is why he'll never win." Without another word Roose turned and walked back to the wall and sat near it. "History is written by the victor, Lord Stark. If I had won and you lost, then the world would have known you as an oathbreaker and your King as an ambitious climber who wished to steal his nephew's throne. But in the world we live in now, I'm the monster who killed and betrayed his King and then sought to usurp his lands. Soon I will be dead and buried like all those who came before me."

"And your family line will be extinguished, and if I have my way I'll have the Dreadfort pulled down stone by bloody stone. So tell me one last time if it was worth it?"

Roose's ugly chips of ice he called eyes seemed to light up in amusement as he exclaimed. "It was. And if I was given a thousand more chances I would have done the same thing every time." He then pulled a roughspun blanket over his lap and turned on his side to gain some sleep. As Jon started to walk away he heard Roose's quiet voice pick up. "I go to my death with only one regret. And that is my one and only son, Domeric."

Jon had meant to go find Ramsay Bolton, but before he could find him he heard a loud commotion from topside. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why'd you let him down there!" Screamed Godry Farring and soon after the door to the dungeons opened and the guards poured downstairs and were led by Godry. "What do you think you're doing down here?" He spat in disgust and anger both.

"I don't answer to you. Now move out of my way." Jon ordered the taller and vain man.

Without waiting for him to answer Jon pushed past him and climbed back up the stairs to the surface. The snow had stopped thankfully as it had already been piled high enough and they didn't need more. He had only one destination in mind and it was his tent. Most of the rooms in the castle were in disrepair and it would be some time before anyone stayed in the fire damaged quarters. After Jon had made it back to the tent he was happy to find Ghost sleeping by himself. Val had become distant of late and sometimes didn't come back to their tent at night. Jon wondered if she had found someone, and in some ways he knew it was for the best, but it also made him feel sad.

It was a few hours later when Jon received word from Stannis in the form of a camp letter. It for the most part had ignored Jon's stated intention of returning back to the Night's Watch. Stannis had ordered Jon to set out for White Harbor as soon as possible to make terms with the Manderlys who were noticeably absent in both camps. He had heard they wouldn't take sides because Wyman Manderly's son Wylis still hadn't been returned from south. Jon heard rumors that he was long dead and that the Lannisters were delaying the inevitable. Jon had sent word back that he planned to set out on the morrow's morn for the Night's Watch again, but not letter came back. Jon knew that good and well to be Stannis' response of 'no you're not'.

Jon had felt like going to visit Donnel to apologize and then he felt like going to visit the She-bear and her prisoner. But in the end he never left his tent and he simply poked at the fire until night fell and he prepared himself to get a early days rest for the long ride tomorrow. He wondered if Sansa herself was still alive, he had heard she disappeared after Joffrey's Wedding and some said she poisoned the King herself. But Jon didn't believe them, as Sansa loved Joffrey and he didn't think that the naive little girl would ever do such a thing.  _They probably killed her just like they did Arya._ Jon felt tears stinging his closed eyes as he remembered that he was the last of the Starks.

He had eventually found his slumber, but sometime during the night he had felt a cold breeze rush into the tent and he knew it was Val. "Close the bloody flap, it's freezing." Jon complained absentmindedly, though she gave him no response and he fell back asleep. He didn't no how long it was later, but he felt a warm presence against him and he threw his arm over it. "I've wondered where you've been, Ghost."

The body shifted several times and he felt a warm and slender hand brush against his throat and he jumped in shock. "You have the courage of a goose," Val exclaimed as she sat on his waist with her bone knife in hand.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked in fear as he remembered her threats of gelding him.

Val had a look of annoyance which seemed to not mare her face, just add to her beauty. "Did you not wonder where I've been these last few nights, Jon Snow?" He had, but he didn't think it his place to question her. "You never came looking for me. Even when I sent Ghost away." He saw the knife drawing his close to his throat. He wondered if he had room to toss her off, without the knife slipped through his throat. "You all call us wildlings because we take what we want and desire. Then I call you stupid for not taking what you want." With a quick flick of her hand, the knife had cut the straps to his breeches under the fur covers.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked as he felt her working his breeches down. When she looked back up to him, he noticed that under the covers she wore no clothes and her breasts hung freely from her chest.

"Taking what I want and giving you what you want." Her lips pressed against his and he wanted to stop her, as he was to be a man of the Night's Watch again, but he couldn't. "You have your Winterfell, Jon Snow." He felt his breeches then slide down to his ankles and he felt his manhood pressing hard against her hips. "And now I will have you, and one day we will have children that will live in your Winterfell." Without another word between them, she slowly lifted herself down on him.

It had felt so wrong, but he knew that he wanted it more than anything in the world at that moment. "Val, why? You threatened me-"

She had already begun going up and down on him and he wrenched his throat closed. "I should be asking you why you didn't just take me earlier. Did you really fear me so much?"

Jon wanted to tell her, yes, but her pink lips were calling him and he wouldn't disappoint her again. After what felt like near minutes, he needed to breathe and broke his embrace of her while she continued going up and down. "I don't know how longer this can last," Jon said through gritted teeth as he clutched at the furs to calm himself down.

"As long as you want it to last, Jon Snow." Val's eyes were hazy and her cheeks were flushed, but she wouldn't stop her movement.

Jon wanted to fling her down to the bedding and take her in an animalistic way, but his body failed him and he could only tell her. "It's not Snow, not any longer. It's Jon Snow." Her pale grey eyes seemed to be amused and lust filled when he said that, so he continued just as he felt his seed rising. "And it's not just Val any longer. It's Val Stark."

The smile on her lips grew wide and she leaned over his chest and put her forehead to his while looking deep into his eyes. "You'll make me your Lady? Don't think you'll be able to own me like these southerners own their wives."

Jon knew he was close, but he held on for the sake of winning this conversation. "You don't expect me to share you with anyone do you?"

Her eyebrows arched in surprise and she kissed his lips and murmured. "I'm yours and you're mine. My body is forever yours, just like your cock is mine until the day you die." At her word Jon felt himself let loose inside her, and in response she let out a small cry before her arms gave out and she fell onto his chest. After a few moments of heavy breathing from both of them, she let out a small chuckle. "You looked like a girl when you finished, Jon Stark."

Jon smirked and looked down into her grey eyes as he asserted. "So did you."

"I'm sure I did. I suppose we'll have to go say our vows in front of the heart tree on the morrow." She sounded sad and like she was frustrated.

"Do you not want to?" Jon was confused by her seeming resistance to the idea.

Val brushed several stands of her honey blonde hair behind her ears and used Jon's chest as a pillow. "Your King will think he's won. He's wanted the wildling princess to marry his Stark since we were at the Wall."

Jon cupped her face his with his hands and kissed her pink lips again, and he was happy that he never had to restrain himself before her again. "Don't you think we should? If you want it can be just us, we'll sneak it at dawn and say our vows to just ourselves and the Gods."

She gently shook her head. "No, your King will be crossed and I see no reason why my own selfish issue should hamper you. We'll marry before anyone who would watch and then I'll take my husband any way I wish." Val reached down and grabbed his manhood again. "Least I won't have to fend off anymore would be suitors."

Jon felt strong feelings towards this woman, almost like he did towards his Ygritte and he wondered if he was just drawn to dangerous women. "I love you." He exclaimed quietly and then flipped her around with him on top. 

Val chuckled and Jon then felt as if she let him turn their positions around. "I've already ensnared my husband, have I? Before our wedding too. I suppose I should be flattered." She was about to laugh, but her voice was cut short as Jon entered back into her. "I think you'll do for me as well. Now do you seek to work on my first request?"

Jon started thrusting his hips into her and he managed to nod, despite the pleasure he felt. "What ever it is, I'll do it for you."

"I want your children, Jon Stark. Now keep going, you're doing quite well." Val's voice was falling flat, and he knew that she enjoyed it just as much as him. But in his head, the thought of children scared him to his bones. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading. Be sure to leave a comment or review if you want, because it really kicks me into gear and gets me writing when I know people enjoy the story.


	33. The Long Journey Home

Arya:

 

"Girl, go and mop up the cook's space before he falls and kills himself." Ordered the balding and fat Quartermaster of the Porchard.

Without argument, Arya lifted herself off the railing and made her way down the ships frontal staircase. She had more than enough money to pay voyage to White Harbor or Widow's Watch, but no ships had the intention of travelling North until the winter was over. So she found work amongst one of the numerous food transport vessels going to Westeros. This certain ship was travelling much farther south than she desired, but she knew it was her only choice unless she wanted to swim. The Quartermaster told her that the food they were ferrying was bound for the port of Gulltown and she knew that it wouldn't be hard to find an overland convoy going somewhere north.

After arriving at the cook's cabin kitchen she called out to the round and jovial man who was attempting to cook four different pots of stew at once. "I heard you made a mess again, Davryn." The rotund man spun around and the creases on his fat face went wide when smiled at her.

"Ah, quick quick, come taste this duck and tell me it is not the finest thing to ever touch your tongue." He held a large wooden ladle out to her which was filled with a dark brown liquid.

Arya paced over to the man and sipped the hot liquid. It truly was decadent as he claimed and it served to warm her body and coax her hunger on. "It's good, but I heard you have a mess I need to clean." She looked around the room and saw a splattering of blood and something that looked to be milk in it. She then tried to moved to it.

She then tried to moved to it. "Wait!" Davryn exclaimed and pulled another ladle from the fourth cauldron. "Try the lamb and mussel soup, it's my newest idea."

Arya looked to the concoction and wanted to turn it down on the smell alone. "It smells horrible and I have a job to do. Do you want them to toss me overboard?"

Davryn would not be deterred and simply held the ladle out to her to try. "It will be fine, you're only wasting more time arguing."

 _Fine you damn harpy._ Arya dealt with this every time she came to the kitchens as the rotund man always had some odd recipe he wanted her to try. But she rationed in her head that it was better to be full than hungry. "It's a little salty." She exclaimed after drinking down the liquid and chewing on a chunk of mussel. Davryn seemed to take her words to heart and he rushed over to his crate of spices and began rummaging through them. She took that as her moment to clean up the mess he'd created. After scrubbing the hard wooden floor she excused herself from the room while Davryn still looked through his crates. "I think your soup is burning." She told him before leaving the room as the second cauldron began to smoke and crackle.

After dealing with the mess, Arya returned to the soft swaying bed of yarn on the deck of the ship. The captain of the ship; Ben Buckworth who claimed to be from Andalos, told her that the beds were called hammocks and that they are a object of leisure for the people of Lorath and Pentos. He usually didn't allow anyone other than children to use them for fear of breaking it, but he made exceptions for the girls serving on the ship she noted. The Quartermaster Oro, claimed that Captain Ben liked girls with nice asses to serve on the ship. So when she went to sign up, Oro himself demanded that she turn around so he could make sure she had the correct qualifications, as he put it. Arya made sure to study the man for a day before she signed on, to make sure it was reasonably safe. Oro had turned down several girls with stars in their eyes, due to either the shape of their backside or their age. So Arya made sure to tell Oro that she was six and ten, and not her real age of three and ten. Arya was worried he wouldn't believe her, but after seeing her behind he let her on as a cabin maid.

The two other girls on board had tried to make friends with Arya, but she couldn't tolerate them and their hopes and dreams of marrying either the captain of the ship or some rich boy from Westeros. It didn't help her opinion of them when she caught both of them taking coin from men for a touch or feel. The first man who tried it on her had his nose broken and his standing in the hierarchy of the ship destroyed, as she made sure he turned into the punch which blacked him out. It only got worse when the two other girls started spending their nights in other areas then the one they all shared. Arya didn't mind much, though because she enjoyed not having to listen to them gossiping and giggling all night. In some ways they reminded her of the nights back at Winterfell where Jeyne Poole and Sansa would giggle and gossip about boys they liked. Thankfully however the captain was a rather gentle man who only sought to charm girls into his bed and not force them, so she never had any issues with him.

As she stared up at the clear and blue sky above the ship, she thought back on what the Kindly Man told her.  _We give you one year, Arya Stark. In those days, you will lose that name and return back to us as no one._  She had agreed and promised that she would be back to finish her training, but first, she needed to finish what held her back in Westeros.  _I warn you, if you don't return then He of Many Faces will take what is his._ Arya knew that it was no empty threat with them, but they both knew she could never fully move on unless they let her go.

Her wolf dreams had been coming to her every night and they seemed to be getting clearer and clearer as she got closer to Westeros. Just the other night she saw the pack hunting a group of men, they hadn't known that they were being hunted. But the men themselves were hunting the Brotherhood, and Nymeria still remembered the meal the Brotherhood had offered her and her pack. The men were sly and had ditched their heavy armors and horses long before they snuck after the Brotherhood. When the leader of the group; a silver-haired man sent the word and they attacked the Brotherhood, Nymeria attacked them with the bulk of the pack. In the end, it was three wolves for every man, and Nymeria had her prey in mind and it was the supposed pack leader of the men. Nymeria had ripped the throats of several men at arms and had witnessed the silver man kill four of her own pack and Arya saw him kill Dennett after his arrow missed its mark. The fighting had been confusing and more things were happening than even Arya could keep track of.

The Brotherhood had been forced back on itself and Arya saw Thoros leading the defense of the group while the hooded woman stood silently in the center. Nymeria had seen her opening to feast on the silver man, but when she prowled to him, Arya had seen a more appetizing target in the form of a harelipped man. it had taken coaxing on Arya's part, but Nymeria abandoned the silver man and pounced on the man wearing a red suit of mail. It had nearly killed one of the pack before Nymeria knocked him to the ground. The man had lost his sword, but he nearly took Nymeria's eye out with a dagger he had drawn, but sadly for him he missed and Nymeria had torn his face off and tasted his flesh. When Nymeria stood back up she and most of the pack were drawn as the Brotherhood and attackers lit torches to drive the wolves away. Nymeria had wanted to flee with her pack, but Arya had forced her to fall back and watch.

"Enough of your foul magic!" Screamed a man with grey hair; who had a black fish embroidered on his chest.

Thoros of Myr had stepped past the lines with his sword in hand and screamed back. "This is no magic, only what you deserve for ambushing us."

The silver haired King stepped forward beside the black fish man. "You're outlaws who murder and steal from innocents. So I would be careful how you use the word 'deserve'."

"We've never killed innocents. Only those who would prey on the weak and murder." Thoros said back, and then he took a torch from one of his companions. "Who are you to hunt us? Paid by the Freys or Lannisters?"

Nymeria had been far and away hiding under the brush, but the silver man's stupid smile was evident from any distance. "I'm paid by no one. I'm Aegon Targaryen. Now I order you to drop your weapons and I'll be fair to you all."

Thoros turned to the Hooded Woman and Nymeria picked up only a slight whisper saying to go. Thoros himself called out to Aegon. "I want a parley, no one else has to die."

It only took a few short minutes before both Aegon and the Black fished man met up in the center of the field with both Thoros and the Hooded Woman. They exchanged words and after a time, the Hooded Woman and the black fish wearing man walked from the group to talk to amongst themselves. While Aegon and Thoros exchanged several loud words in what Arya knew to be High Valyrian. It took only a few moments for Aegon to draw a dagger and hold it to Thoros. Both sides had prepared their weapon for a fight, but Thoros said in the common tongue. "Is that really what you expect everyone that was there to do?"

Aegon gave silence back as his answer, and Thoros then took the dagger from Aegon and held it at his own throat. "Did he smile?" Aegon asked.

Thoros' hand shifted over the blade he held at his throat and he seemed to hesitate before he responded. "Only dragonspawn, not children are they ... and we're well rid of them." Thoros' lips drooped in disgust as if an awful smell filled the field, which Arya figured did. "For what it's worth, he didn't."

In response, Aegon took the dagger from Thoros' hand and stowed back into his boot. Without another word shared between the two, they waited for the Hooded Woman and the black fish wearing man. They did come back after a good and long while, so long in fact that some of Nymeria's pack mates had come back to look for food. It had only taken a small growl from Nymeria to bring the two males back under her.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Aegon asked the black fish wearing man who nodded. The grey haired man whispered to Aegon and after what seemed to be two minutes, where Aegon's eyes seemed to shift up and down in shock, then fear, and finally acceptance. "Where moving out." Ordered Aegon, and without another word shared between the group they all set off together with the Brotherhood.

Arya had wanted Nymeria to follow after them, but Nymeria wanted to feast on the men left behind and Arya knew she and her pack deserved it. Arya had finally slipped out of the dream after Nymeria had begun tearing into Branton's face. But Arya had felt Nymeria's will and knew that she wasn't anywhere done with her hunger for the silver haired man.

The sky had turned a dark purple before Arya tore herself away from her daydreaming, which unfortunately was infected with thoughts of what Aegon Targaryen was doing. "Time for supper, we have a choice of three different stews." Exclaimed Liane, the oldest of the girls on the vessel. She sounded excited to Arya, but then again she usually was over such trivial things.

Arya followed after the black haired girl who seemed to skip with every other step towards the mess hall. When they got to the crowded room, Liane bounded over to the cauldron and requested a serving of the lamb and mussel soup, while Arya herself requested a bowl of duck stew. Liane bounded off towards the Captain's table, where Elenai already sat and looked to be stuck at the hip with Captain Ben. Arya turned to the table in the back where she always sat with Moldy Balman, but Davryn grabbed her by the wrist and stopped her.

"What is it?" Arya asked and then she felt something slip into her palm while Davryn held his fat and stubby finger to his lips.

She nodded and walked over to the end of the table and placed her bowl on the table. "What did you choose?" She asked her usual dinner companion. Balman pushed his bowl over to her and Arya thought it was the same as her's. "Duck stew, huh?"

The mute and old Balman nodded his head and brought his rusty spoon to his bowl. Arya had tried to warn him that it was not healthy to keep using it, but he always shook his head and kept eating with a smile.

Arya placed the round piece of bread Davryn had given her in the bowl of stew to hide it. He had always treated her when she helped him, and she felt like he was her only true friend on the boat. She thought it cruel of her, but when she looked at the rotund and jolly cook, she always wondered if Hot Pie would grow to look like him. Balman had been looking squarely down into her bowl at the lump of bread which was molded with two eyes and a smile. Arya waited to be sure no one was looking before she tore a small piece off and tossed it into Balman's own bowl and she held her own finger up to her lips to silence the already silent. He gave her a small and rare smile and Arya knew he would make it up to her somehow as he always repaid his favors two fold. It was almost comforting to her that she had found someone new to the ship who had the presence of an intact mind. The only drawback to the man was the smell for which he was nicknamed after by the Captain on the day of his signing.

After a while of eating and conversing, Sweet Toothed Dilly stood up on the table and began playing his viol. He was a rough player from what Arya heard from him, but she knew to the crew he was a musical genius. He had started with some light and carefree songs and tunes of sailing, but when he soon made it to the bawdy and romantic songs. Arya excused herself and set off towards the women's cabin.

She waited for awhile to be sure no one would come knocking and when she thought it safe. Arya removed the loose plank from under her wooden bed and retrieved her needle and money while passing over the scrap of song under it. After counting it to be sure no one found it or stole it, she went to shining her needle by the moonlight. It had been bright and round that night, and Arya always loved when it looked like that. "I'll be home soon and you won't have to worry anymore, Jon." Arya promised. In her heart she wondered if he would even recognize her, or if she would recognize him. It had been so long since they had seen each other, nearly fours years now. Arya knew she had gotten taller and her hair had grown back out to her shoulders, and she knew that she could draw more stares from men than ever before. She wondered why sometimes, but knew that men lusted after anything if their blood was up.  _Arya Horseface._ She said in her head as she remembered the cruel name Jeyne Poole had called her as children.

Arya remembered that her sister was still out there somewhere too. "But where could she be?" Arya had truthfully spent many nights wondering about her older sister, like if she looked different, was she still so stupid and naive, and if she still wanted to remain in the south. "I bet she still wants to be married to some fancy Lord or King." Arya felt a smile creep to her lips, imagining how head over heels her sister would be if she met Aegon.  _She would be weak in the knees even before he opened his stupid mouth._  Arya clutched at the open windows sill and looked over her seven gold dragons.

"But the real Arya Stark won't be married to no Lord." Arya exclaimed as she remembered Justin Massey's face as she stuck her needle in his heart. It hadn't been hard since the Poetess had left him drained mentally and physically that first day, he hadn't even heard her creep up his bed. He must have thought it was the Poetess coming back for more, she wagered.  _I'll get Arya Stark and the Dreadfort, I tell you now._ Ser Justin had bragged and then told of how her brother would fail and lose the North. Arya didn't want to hear talks of marrying anyone when she returned home, so she thought it best to kill that idea in it's infancy along with that arrogant man. It did bring some amusement to think of how bad it must have looked when Justin Massey never showed up to meet the Iron Bank, but it did make her feel bad that Rissa would have to see her first dead body when she removed the covers.  _We all see our first sooner or later. It might sober her up to reality._ Arya thought to herself before stowing her goods away and going to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was thinking about an April fools day joke where I just spoil everything in one giant summary, but that was too difficult so here's a new chapter.


	34. A Run Through the Riverlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got much longer then I thought it would. Hope you all enjoy though.

Sansa:

 

"Where are we going now?" Sansa asked Harwin, while she rode a tan colored palfrey that Ser Jaime Lannister had bought from a crofter who couldn't find the means to keep it fed.

Ser Jaime and Harwin both stayed on foot, and Harwin himself led the horse for her. "South, towards Riverrun. But first we have to cross the Green fork."

"And to do that we have to cross the Twins." Ser Jaime exclaimed. "Hopefully when I tell them who I am, they'll give us some proper horses. Because my feet are killing me." Sansa hadn't trusted him since they had fled from the Gates of Moon. Though he had been courteous enough to give her his condolences. She remembered however that he was a Lannister every time she looked at him, and all Lannisters were evil.

After the group of three had fled from the castle, Harwin had wanted to double back through the Bloody Gate after a while had passed. But Ser Jaime told him that it was an awful plan as the soldiers would be on high alert looking for her. Ser Jaime had suggested they either take a boat from Gulltown or travel north over the Crow's Barrow. It involved quite a bit of arguing between the two men, but after it was all said and done they decided on the high and dangerous road over the Crow's Barrow that took them to the east of the Twins of house Frey.

Sansa had once thought that the Eyrie was scary due to being so high up, but it was nothing to her since she had walked the Crow's Barrow. Which was a treacherous path that could only be walked one at a time and in places it was only as wide as two feet. Which overlooked a two hundred foot drop to a craggy floor devoid of any life and foliage.

For a long time during the trip, Sansa didn't truly speak to any of the men. Ser Jaime hadn't really attempted to coax her from her silence, but Harwin tried many times. She remembered him briefly as the son of the horse master at Winterfell. She remembered him looking much more healthy during his time at Winterfell though, as his eyes now seemed to always have bags under them and he never smiled like he used to. He had comforted her one night after she woke up screaming from her nightmare which plagued her of Harrold's scream and of her Sweetrobin's body.

She had been broken from her stupor though, as Harwin said. "Your mother will be overjoyed to see you, M'lady."

Sansa didn't know why both men continued with their cruel lies. "My mother's dead. Her throat was slit by the Freys and they tossed her body into Trident." She remembered how hard she had sobbed when news arrived of the Red Wedding, but now when she thought of it, only anger and hatred filled her heart.

"She's not, Sansa." Ser Jaime's voice broke and he seemed to tremble as he talked. "It sounds like lunacy and a fable I know. But she's still alive and breathing."

Sansa simply shook her head and resumed her silence after they reminded her why she had stopped talking to them in the first place.  _More lies from Lannisters._ Sansa was happy that the snowfall had stopped, she could tell her palfrey struggled to walk in it. She had wanted to name it when it was first presented to her, but she resigned to as she knew their partnership would be short and she didn't want to get attached.

When Ser Jaime first told her who he was and what he'd sworn to her mother, Sansa had wanted to laugh in his face. She hated to admit it, but he did seem like he cared for her fate. Which scared her even worse, for she didn't know his full intentions and Petyr taught her that should be her first priority. Sansa didn't think he sought to bring her back to King's Landing or he would have insisted on using Gulltown. And while she couldn't be sure, she didn't think Harwin would be working with the Lannisters.

Harwin was a much easier target to understand, and Sansa thought if necessary she could charm him to her will. She remembered him being fully grown when she was only a girl. But she still had caught his eyes wandering over her body when he didn't think she was looking. Sansa knew that he felt poor about it, as he would always pull his vision away and stare down at his feet when he was done. Sansa had made a point of catching him one time, and in response, he couldn't talk to her even once for an entire day in shame. Sansa had looked to catch Ser Jaime doing the same, but to her surprise he never did. It seemed so odd to Sansa that she had even begun to foster the rumors of Ser Jaime and Cersei being true.

They had traveled for nearly four hours before someone finally broke the silence as they came close to what looked to be an overturned cart. "What's going on up there?" Harwin asked in his thick northern voice.

Ser Jaime cupped his hand over his bright green eyes and said back. "I don't know, but to be safe just keep Sansa in the back." Ser Jaime led the group himself and as they walked closer he made sure that his cloak was pushed over his shoulders so not to impede him if he had to draw his blade. "How do you fare?" Ser Jaime asked them in a pleasant voice, but when the men looked up to the source of the voice they did not seem at all happy.

There were three men and each one wore the twin towers of Frey on their chests. "Stay back." One of them ordered. "We've had just about enough of travelers this day."

"Aye, seems you could use some help with your cart there." Ser Jaime exclaimed as he held his hands up peacefully. "I don't mean any harm, but are any of you actual Freys?"

When he asked all of the men seemed to stiffen up. A black haired and wiry man who had been looking down at the snapped spokes of the cart stood up. "My name is Walder Frey. And who are you, Ser?"

"Jaime Lannister. Which one are you? There are just so many it's hard to keep track." Ser Jaime held a certain lightness and humor in his voice as he asked.

The black haired man didn't seem to quite as amused as Ser Jaime when he responded back. "My grandfather was Stevron Frey."

"Ah right, you're Black Walder Frey." Ser Jaime exclaimed without care and when he did, Walder Frey looked to be furious.

"What are you doing all the way up here? Most say you perished at Riverrun."

Ser Jaime looked confused and when he turned to Harwin, the northman averted his gaze to Sansa's palfrey. "It's a very long story, but tell me ... what happened at Riverrun?" Ser Jaime asked the Freys.

Walder Frey looked at the two others with him, and after they exchanged some words amongst themselves, Walder waved them over. They did as he bid, but Harwin made sure to stay as far back as possible with Sansa."It was a bloody massacre. During the wedding, the guests were murdered. They hung the bride and her new husband, but not before Whalen was torn apart by a pack of demon wolves."

"Everyone?" Ser Jaime asked just above a hush, and in response Walder nodded. It was a rather long period of silence before the Kingslayer opened his mouth. "I need to get across the Twins, do you mind escorting us?"

The Frey man looked down at his ruined cart and said back. "Does it look like we're in a position to go anywhere? Damn spokes nearly all snapped and our horses ran off."

Jaime made a point of looking around the area before turning to back to the dark haired man. "We're walking and it didn't kill us. So unless you expect those horses to come back, you'll have to walk too."

"Damn it all." The black haired man exclaimed and then turned back to those with him. "Grab what you can, we're going to huff it back." The men immediately went to the back of the cart and began tossing sacks over their shoulders. After they had grabbed all they could carry they started off towards the Twins, with Ser Jaime behind them, and then Sansa and Harwin behind them all. "We should make it back before nightfall," Walder informed them.

"I don't have much coin left on me, only a few silver stags, but I trust Lord Walder will give us fresh horses for the ride back down south?" Ser Jaime sounded a bit too eager to gain a horse and sounded desperate to Sansa.

"I'm sure he will, but I wouldn't suggest going south if I was you." Walder responded and his voice seemed to betray how much angrier he was that he was forced to walk.

Ser Jaime had picked up his pace to follow next to Walder. "And why is that?"

Walder let out a snort of laughter. "The damn false Targaryen has drawn a fucking line across the Riverlands, from Maidenpool to Riverrun. It will be a miracle if you; Jaime Lannister aren't caught and killed."

Both Ser Jaime and Harwin's morale seemed to deflate at that news. "He's already made it that far? That's very troubling." The Kingslayer admitted out loud. "Has King's Landing sent any word of repelling them?"

Walder shook his head. "No, King's Landing is in anarchy right now, I'd imagine. Margaery Tyrell has been excommunicated and the High Sparrow has vowed that he'll never see her married in any sept. While your sister has demanded a trial by combat. I expected that was where you were this whole time. So tell me what were you're doing all the way up here?"

Ser Jaime seemed hesitant to answer, and Sansa feared he would tell them the truth, so she drew her hood further down to obscure her face. "I'd been called away to settle a dispute in the Vale, but then the Lord's of the Vale tried to turn on me and I barely escaped with my life. We had to cross the Crow's Barrow just to survive."

"That sounds like quite the tale, mayhaps you can tell me more about it when we get to the Twins. I'm sure my great grandfather would like to hear it as well."

Ser Jaime's face briefly showed how relieved he was, and only Sansa thought she noticed it. "Aye, I would be happy to share it after I get some good food in my belly. I know it might be hard, but can you tell me any more about what's happened? We didn't hear much while we were fleeing from the Vale."

"I suppose you've heard of the Dragon's Hand of the King?" Walder asked and the Kingslayer shook his head, which brought a sad chuckle from Walder's mouth. "Tyrion Lannister has found his way into this Aegon Targaryen's good graces. Your brother has sided against you and the realm. Along with half of Westeros it feels now."

It had seemingly struck the Lannister like a killing blow, as his head hung over in further disbelief, but to Sansa it sounded just like the Lannisters she had known.  _They turn on their own given the first chance. Even the best of the Lannisters are still lower than most others._ Sansa did wonder just how much Tyrion knew of what conditions his King had left his wife in.

The group had fallen into an uncomfortable silence while they walked. Only a few simple words were shared for the majority of the walk that lasted far too long Sansa felt. As the sun had set, and night had taken hold of the land, Black Walder Frey told them that they were close, and Sansa could see the truth with her own eyes in the distance. It's two twin towers were on opposite ends while a smaller tower was in the middle. Sansa had seen it once before, but she didn't remember the two towers having pyres on them like light towers did near coasts.

"What the bloody fuck is that?" Screamed Walder in a panic.

Ser Jaime craned his neck to look far in the distance and he seemed to notice whatever scared the Frey. "Fire ... two of them." Without another word the Kingslayer drew his sword and was followed along with the Freys. "Stay back, and keep wary. Don't let Sansa out of your sight." Ser Jaime ordered Harwin, who in response slipped his axe from his belt loop.

The Frey men had already taken off in a mad sprint towards their home, and Ser Jaime jogged after them. Which left Harwin and Sansa on the hill overlooking the mighty fortress which was aflame. It sounded like screaming in the distance, and to their panic it sounded like the Kingslayer's voice. "Sansa, get down," Harwin ordered her. After helping her down from the horse, he slipped a thin and rough looking dagger from his boot and put it in her hands. "Stay behind me at all times, and if I tell you to run. You run."

Sansa felt her heart trembling much like it did when Stannis attacked King's Landing, and like when Aegon attacked the Gates of Moon. But nevertheless she agreed and clutched the dagger in her fist. "I will."

Harwin led Sansa down the hill, and the moon held no light and it was near pitch black darkness before her eyes. The only light source she could see was emanating from further along the path due to the Frey's torches and from the fire burning throughout the Twins. When they had gotten closer, Sansa saw that one of the Frey men with Walder was dead. While Ser Jaime himself stood over another corpse that she didn't recognize, but that man had a spear still clutched in his hand. "What's happening?" Harwin asked Ser Jaime who was panting in exhaustion.

"He ran at us and we thought he was from the Twins, but without saying anything he just attacked us." The Lannister explained and then he wiped the blade of his sword off on the corpse's leather jerkin. "He nearly got me with that spear of his, but I ended him first."

Walder Frey was looking around the dense forest surrounding them, and he had a look of fear. "I don't see an army, how are they attacking?" Walder turned back towards Ser Jaime and Sansa for an answer. "Do you know-" A ripping and wet noise filled the air then.

Sansa felt a splash of liquid hit her face. It felt warm and sticky, and when she blinked and looked at Black Walder she saw an arrowhead sticking out of his face. "Archer!" Harwin screamed as he pushed Sansa to the dirt. She did not know when it happened or why, but she felt the air from her body fade as she screamed out in fear.

"Good shot." Exclaimed a voice from the woods. "Right through his fucking eye." The same voice added. Sansa was afraid, but she managed to lift her face from the dirt, and she saw a group of two men in the brush. One was tall and had a yellow hooded cloak while the other was shorter and dressed in a dark blue gambeson with a crossbow in hand.

Ser Jaime looked like he meant to charge the men, but he had second thoughts when the black haired boy aimed his loaded crossbow at him. "I wouldn't do that, Ser. I'll put this bolt through that golden beard of yours if you take another step."

"Aye, and after that, these two with me will be sure to kill you while you fumble to load another shot." The Kingslayer shot back.

The yellow cloaked man responded back gleefully. "If you think those two with you can make it past me, then you deserve to be killed."

The black haired boy seemed to be Sansa's age based on his size, but his voice betrayed him. "And I can load this crossbow much faster than any of you can run to me. So toss those weapons away. We won't warn you again."

The last Frey man didn't seem ready to die, so he tossed his spike club down first. "Bloody craven." Harwin spat at the man, and instead of keeping the axe in front of him, Sansa noticed how Harwin held it towards the two attackers as if he was aiming. 

"Drop your fucking weapons now." The lemon cloaked man commanded them. "It pains me, but Ed. Aim at that girl they're hiding, maybe that'll weaken their resolve."

The coal haired boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before doing as he was asked. "Just do as we say. I don't want to kill a woman, and my guardian would be very cross with me if I did."

Ser Jaime threw one look back at Harwin and both men nodded to each other. "Fine, now just don't shoot." Ser Jaime said before he threw threw his sword a few feet away.

Harwin on the other hand didn't throw his axe away and he craned his neck to look at their attackers. "Lem? Is that you and Gendry?"

"You know them?" Asked the Frey man in confusion, but it didn't last long because Harwin moved to the man and planted his axe directly in his forehead. After the Frey man dropped dead the ground, Harwin pulled the axe from his head and waved the two in the brush over.

The man Harwin identified as Lem walked closer to them, while the crossbow wielding boy followed close behind still aiming at them. "Harwin, we've wondered what happened to you all. What in the hells are you doing all the way up here? And where's Brienne and Mudge?"

Harwin made the point of looking at the crossbow, and in response Lem pushed it away. "Mudge is dead, and Brienne was captured a good time ago." Harwin reached down and lifted Sansa back to her feet. "And we've found her. She's still alive." Sansa meekly looked up at the lemon cloaked man who had a badly disfigured nose. "But what the fuck is going on?"

Lem and the black haired boy seemed to both be drawn to Sansa, but Lem managed to respond. "We've already dealt with Riverrun and now we're dealing with the Freys."

"It's a fortress, how can a band of outlaws like yourselves think you can take it?" Ser Jaime asked as he picked his sword up from the ground.

The black haired boy let out a small chuckle. "We don't mean to take it, only to destroy it you fool."

"Come." Lem called and the group was meant to follow him, which they did. "Her mother will want to see her. We can load you in the cart and we'll send you down the road together with the Dragon King's prize."

As she heard the name, she dug her heels into the dirt. "Aegon Targaryen? He's a monster, he'll kill me if he finds me!"  _Just like he killed my Harry and Sweetrobin._

Thankfully Ser Jaime himself had reservations about that plan and voiced it. "The Brotherhood are working with him now? I thought you all believed in justice and avenging the smallfolk, not serving Kings?"

Lem seemed to take offence at the Kingslayer's accusation. "We don't serve him, our goals just have aligned at the moment. She just wants her son back, and Aegon wants ... something else. Thoros wouldn't tell us and well, no one dared to ask Catelyn." He looked down at Sansa and gave a reassuring smile. "She will be overjoyed to see you, M'lady."

"What your King wants, isn't for you to discuss." Exclaimed the crossbow wielding boy. "We've done our part, now I just hope you brigands follow up on your end."

"Keep up that tongue of yours, Edric, and I'll crack your head open like a fruit." Lem warned, but it didn't seem to dissuade any of the fire in Edric's eyes.

Harwin then drew close to Lem's side and asked in a whisper. "Found another one have we?"

But Lem shook his head and said back loud enough for everyone to hear. "This one likes serving Kings. A regular Kings man he is. Unlike our Gendry, Edric's eyes are still firmly shut to reality."

"Just because you've all forgotten what honor tastes like, doesn't mean I should or will." Edric shot back angrily, but he was ignored by all.

"So what are we waiting for?" Harwin asked Lem as they waited by the side of the packed dirt road.

"They should be riding down this road any moment." Lem exclaimed under his breath, before turning back to Harwin and telling him directly. "They snuck into the Twins this morn, by now I'm sure the Frey's are down a few members. And Lady Catelyn wants her son back.

Due to how close they were to the burning towers, Sansa could now smell the smoke and it choked her up a bit. She could even hear the shouts of panic echoing from the men who were trying to put out the blaze. Her first instinct was to feel sympathy for the men, but then she remembered just what they had done to her brother and mother. "Let them burn." She exclaimed under her breath, and it only seemed like Ser Jaime heard her, as his head was the only one to turn.

It started quiet, but before long a storm of dust was being kicked up down the road. It looked to be a group of horsemen along with a covered carriage being pulled behind them. They all stopped when they saw them, and leading the other group was a grey haired man with a black fish on his chest. "It's time to go." He told them without any introductions, but when he looked at Sansa and Ser Jaime his grin turned to a scowl. "Who are they?"

Lem ignored the man's question and led Sansa over to the covered carriage. "It's Sansa Stark." Exclaimed Edric in his place.

As he said it, a large gasp and chatter broke out amongst all of the men on horses. "Ned's little girl? You found her all the way out here?" Exclaimed a loud and boisterous voice that Sansa felt could carry for miles.

"Quiet yourself, you bumbling giant. Do you want the Frey's to know where we are?" Responded the black fish wearing man.

Lem climbed up on the steps to the carriage and knocked on the wooden door. "M'lady, it's Lem. We've found her." Sansa then heard several sounds of motion in the carriage.

But before the door opened, Sansa saw a brown horse trot up behind the cart along with the man she hated most riding it. "Sansa." Said an airy and hard to hear voice from within the carriage.

Sansa had meant to turn to that voice, but her eyes were shooting daggers at the silver haired man smiling down at her. "It's so good to see you unharmed, Sansa. I thought you were lost to me forever after I didn't find you in the Vale." His voice was melodious and it was just as awful as she remembered. "Your beloved will rejoice to know you're safe, as well." The door to the carriage then opened and Lem lifted her into it.

She had felt cold hands touch her face, but she couldn't take her eyes off of Aegon. "You ruined everything! Do you hear me you bastard, you ruined everything! Harry is dead because of you!" His face shifted in confusion as the words left her mouth.

And before he could answer the door was shut closed and she felt the carriage take off. "I've missed you." Whispered a seemingly familiar voice that then embraced her in the already cramped space. "My sweet daughter." The voice said above a hush, and Sansa felt tears rolling down the person's face.

Sansa couldn't see the woman's face for how hard she was being hugged, but over the woman's shoulder she saw another girl who simply stared at them. Sansa Looked down from her pretty face and long brown hair all the way down to her stomach. Then Sansa realized that the girl was pregnant. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Sansa asked the woman who was nearly smothering her in an embrace.

The woman broke her hold and looked Sansa in the face. "It's your mother." Exclaimed the most frightening visage Sansa had ever seen. The woman's hair was mottled and half of it had fallen out, while her skin was pale as milk and stunk of rot. "Your mother." The woman said again before burying her head into Sansa's shoulder and continuing to cry.

"Stop!" Screamed Aegon's voice and then the driver of the carriage did as he bid and stopped. Sansa had nearly fallen over, but the woman caught her and wouldn't let her fall.

A barrage of voices broke out, and Sansa could only make out the giant man's voice which rose above the rest. "This isn't the time, we need to get away from here."

The woman who claimed to be Sansa's mother reluctantly broke her embrace of Sansa and walked to the front of the carriage and pulled the sliding screen away. "Why did you stop?" She asked in her loudest voice, and it was only then did Sansa see the large slash on the woman's throat.

Sansa walked up to the opening and looked out of the carriage and she saw Aegon with sword drawn and pointed at Ser Jaime. "No ... this is has waited since I was a child." The Lannister didn't move or react, and in response Aegon smashed Ser Jaime across the face with his fist and dropped him into the mud.

The black fish wearing man added his voice to the fray and ordered. "Keep the cart moving." Without another word the driver obliged and took the reins to the horses to get them moving again.

Sansa noted that Edric, the giant man, and Lem all stayed behind to circle around the Dragon King and Ser Jaime. "Stand back up, Kingslayer." He commanded him as he tore his own cloak off and threw it into the dirt. "Face me like the brave lion you think you are." Ser Jaime tried to climb back up to his feet, but Aegon smashed him in the stomach with a kick that floored the older man and left him gasping for air.

"I didn't think he would hurt them." Ser Jaime panted out in pain. "I should have-"

The Kingslayer was then silenced when Aegon spat at him. "I didn't ask for your excuses, Kingslayer. Now ... stand back up." His voice was hard as valyrian steel and Sansa had never seen this side of him. Ser Jaime did get back to his feet, although he was noticeably slower after the two strikes. He looked to be reluctant, but he drew his sword just like the Dragon King bade him. "I have dreamed about killing a two handed Jaime Lannister, but I suppose fate has robbed me of that honor."

The hooded woman closed the screen to the carriage and tried to pull Sansa to her seat, but Sansa needed to see all of it. Thankfully there was a screen in the back of the carriage and she didn't hesitate in throwing it open. "It's always haunted me. I failed your father and your mother both." Ser Jaime admitted as he readied his sword.

Aegon was still pacing back and forth in anger, and Sansa wondered when he would attack. "My sister was stabbed half a hundred times while my mother was raped and then Gregor smashed her head in just like my uncle's." He sounded on the verge of tears as he said it. "And where were you Kingslayer? You were sitting on my throne ... instead of protecting me!" He roared and then lunged at the Lannister. While the Kingslayer looked to be adequate in form, Aegon immediately tossed him off his footing with the first strike which rang their swords together like a bell. Sansa noticed how much larger Ser Jaime's sword was than the one Aegon held. She was thankful in an odd way that he no longer possessed Lady Forlorn, but now a slimmer blade.

The carriage had pulled far enough away where Sansa could no longer hear their voices, but Aegon looked to still be screaming at the Kingslayer who struggled to fight back. "Sansa, please sit back down." The woman told her, and Sansa felt she had no choice now. After closing the screen, she looked to the empty seat beside the pregnant woman, who looked pale with fright. "I never thought I would see you again."

Sansa looked at the face of the woman who claimed to be her mother. She hated to look at her disfigured face, but she couldn't tear herself away. "What happened to you?" Was all Sansa could think to ask. She felt her lips trembling, but she knew that no tears could fall from eyes anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you all enjoyed it and make sure you leave me a comment or review if you have time.  
> Looked at that last part of this chapter and fought with myself over it, but I decided to keep it in the end.
> 
> Not sure if everyone knows yet, but George just released a new chapter from winds of winter and from what I read, I actually did pretty well in my Alayne chapters though no where near what he wrote.


	35. The Sixth of His Name

Tyrion:

 

The new small council had been organized, and they all stood and waited for the King to sit before they all did the same. "Who would like to start?"

Tyrion knew that it was Aegon's way of telling him to start, despite how open ended it sounded. "The army will be ready to move out tomorrow." He exclaimed to the council, which consisted of Yohn Bronze Royce, Brynden the Blackfish Tully, Bryce the Boulderfist Brune, Aurane Waters, and Aegon Targaryen who sat at the head of the table.

"It should take two or three weeks to reach King's Landing. But I would account for the castles and towns we should take, and add it up to a month and a half." Ser Brynden Tully knew it was an unpopular stance, but Tyrion and the man had both discussed it at long lengths. "From the word we've heard from the Reach, their army is still trying to pin the Ironborn down. So the time to seize King's Landing is fast approaching us." Most word that arrived from that part of the world, spoke of the Ironborn launching surprise raids on the soldiers of the Reach. Aegon had spoken at great lengths of Ser Garlan and WIllas Tyrells intelligence to Tyrion in private, but reality has not dictated any results in their favor so far.

Lord Yohn Royce had his own popular stance that most of the Riverlanders shared with him which he voiced again. "I still feel we should bring the whole of the Riverlands under us before we go south." Lord Royce in the stead of an Arryn had taken over the regency of the Vale, and as such he led the Valemen which numbered nearly twenty thousand.

"And you would have us rip the Twins down, brick by bloody brick." Ser Bryce exclaimed and he wasn't wrong, because that was exactly what the Blackfish and Lord Royce wanted to do.

Aegon's violet eyes were focused on the center of the table at nothing in particular and Tyrion noted how his hands dug into the armrests of the chair, but he chuckled out with a continued blank stare. "That sounds reasonable to any man. But unfortunately the time for that is not right now. Let the little weasel Walder Frey starve in his home while the winter snows fall." As the King spoke his intention on that matter all argument in room ceased and Tyrion was thankful they were now all on the same page.

"We'll need ships to blockade King's Landing, do we have the means to do that?" the Boulderfist asked Aegon, though Tyrion felt the question was more suited for himself or the master of ships; Aurane Waters.

The Bastard of Driftmark himself was spinning a gold coin from Lys under his fingers, but when he heard that question he snatched the coin up in his palm. "I command ten dromonds. They're good warships for open sea combat, but we will need more then them I fear." He was nearly as handsome as Aegon, Tyrion thought it every time he looked at the ambitious man. He had become fast friends with Aegon when they were both in their squirehood, and while Aurane was older it seemed like Aegon was the more mature of the two. Tyrion had asked Aegon once what he had offered the man and he told him that Aurane simply wanted what most bastards want.

Lord Yohn Royce then added his voice back into the conversation. "Gulltown can supply forty more war galleys, and if we need more we could conscript them from any merchants in the harbor."

Tyrion thought it sounded fine, but he had to admit that naval combat was not something he was truly knowledgeable about. "You're the master of ships, does it sound like it will be enough to you?"

The Velaryon Bastard seemed to weigh the decision several times in his mind before giving his honest answer. "I could manage, but I'll need the best sailors you have, Lord Royce." His pale green eyes then shifted to Aegon, who still sat like a statue. "Is there any chance that you can bring the Braavosi fleet to our aid, your Grace?"

Aegon simply shook his head. "No, both the current Sealord and coming Sealord were adamant that they wouldn't bring Braavos into a foreign war." Tyrion knew how Aegon felt on that point and how it ate him up any time it was brought up, as he considered it his first defeat.

Aurane Waters took the Kings's word for what it was and moved on. "A pity, but I will succeed nonetheless. I will set out for Gulltown whenever you please."

When Aegon didn't see reason to answer, Tyrion took his place. "I think tomorrow will suit our cause just fine. You will have plenty of time to make it to Gulltown and prepare the fleet."

"There is the choice of who will be left in command of the Riverlands while we fight in the Crownlands." Lord Royce raised the next issue before the council without pause, and it was one that had weighed on Tyrion's mind heavily.

"Can the Blackfish not handle it?" Ser Bryce innocently asked the council. When Tyrion looked to the grizzled soldier, he was happy that the man saw fit to pull a glove over his deformity as it was just what Tyrion needed to see that morn to flip his stomach.

Tyrion opened his mouth to answer, but Ser Brynden explained for him. "I won't be able to lead the Riverlands, not while I'm leading troops down south. We'll need someone to step up as regent for my nephew and lead."

"Do you have any suggestions?" Lord Royce asked the assembled group of men.

This was another point of contention that Aegon, the Blackfish, and Tyrion shared. Aegon had thought to give the position to Lord Tytos Blackwood, but Tyrion knew that the Brackens would take it as a slight. The Blackfish had thought to give the position to Lord Jason Mallister, but Tyrion thought their ties were far too strong with Robb Stark's rebellion. In that mind Tyrion thought it best to give it to someone like Clement Piper, who was a man of low ambition that would be eager to please his King and wouldn't have the courage to defy him.

It might go poorly in the end, but Tyrion knew that they couldn't argue here so he left the final choice to Aegon. "That is the King's choice not ours. So have you decided, your Grace?"

Aegon's eyes were drawn from the conversation and when Tyrion looked at the shine in his violet eyes, he almost thought Aegon was sleeping. He wasn't however and he said back in a monotone. "I've decided Lord Piper will be gifted that honor."

Tyrion could not help, but feel pleased with his answer as he gleefully scribbled himself a reminder to write the official decree. "Very good. I'll be sure to inform him of that honor tomorrow morn."

Aurane Waters cleared his throat and spoke up louder then he had spoken all day. "It may be a tad bit personal, but I think we do need to discuss your eligibility, your Grace." When he said it, a small smirk broke on Aegon's emotionless face. Lord Yohn Royce himself had gained a smile too, and Tyrion knew that the man had hoped to make his youngest daughter Lyarra a queen.

"You are a comely man, Aurane, but I must tell you that I'm only interested in woman." His jape seemed to break some of the tension from the air and everyone shared a small chuckle over it. Aegon's voice then returned to it's steely tone. "We've sent word to Dorne, and they sent word back saying that they are sending a diplomat in the form of Princess Arianne Martell. So at the moment she is our first option." Tyrion had to hand it to Aegon, as he certainly was skilled at stressing Tyrion's own stance for him in front of others while adamantly fighting it in private.

Aegon himself still held onto the belief that the Tyrells were still in play for him, though Tyrion had done his best to dissuade him of that long shot. He had also made sure that Arianne Martell was not the only option coming from the south, and he had hoped Aegon would not disapprove too heavily of his tactics. "So I think that rests that matter for now." Tyrion exclaimed and the room seemed to be in agreement, though Bronze Yohn Royce still held a knowing smile. Tyrion had already been informed of a certain letter Yohn had sent back to his home in Runestone, thanks to the maester Vyman. It had detailed his plan of bringing his daughter Lyarra to the Riverlands to meet and seduce Aegon. Tyrion had to hand it to the Lord Royce as he did not seem crafty on the surface, but he certainly had located Aegon's taste in woman perfectly. Though Tyrion wondered how the poor girl's resolve to her father's plan would last after Aegon sung her a song or flashed her a smile.

"I believe we only have one more matter to discuss for today." Tyrion informed the group, and he knew it would be the most interesting topic of the day. "The new Kingsguard." Tyrion knew that Aegon had already promised two positions away, but until the time came Aegon and Tyrion would not disclose them to anyone.

The name of Lothor Brune was thrown out by Ser Bryce Brune, though Tyrion held severe reservations over a man that once served the cretin known as Petyr Baelish. Ser Wallace Waynwood the youngest son of Lady Anya Waynwood was also brought up by Lord Yohn Royce, though both Aegon and Brynden voiced their doubts over his skill at arms. A fair name brought forward was Bryan Lychester, whose grandfather died fighting for the Targaryen's during Robert's Rebellion. Though many questioned if he would even want to join, as he was still only six and ten and not even knighted yet, despite his skill with a sword and lance. In the end nothing was solved or decided, not that Tyrion truly expected it to yield any real results though it did need to be discussed.

With the close of his heavy leather faced tome, Tyrion said to the council. "With that, I think we are finished for today. Unless any of you have personal matters you would like to bring to attention?" Tyrion waited for anyone to speak up and when none did, he exclaimed. "Then we are done. I hope to see you all at supper tonight, my Lords." Tyrion finished with his most pleasant smile.

The King and Tyrion both sat in their chairs unmoving and waited for all the men to shuffle out of the room which they did very slowly, as undoubtedly all of them wanted some private word with Aegon about some desire or boon they wanted. "That seemed like it went well." Aegon murmured while his gaze bore a hole in the meeting hall's table.

"It did." Tyrion admitted before he emptied a cup of wine down his gullet. It was a sweet vintage and it was perfect in his parched throat. "Have you went to visit, Sansa?" Tyrion truly didn't know why he asked as he already knew his answer.

"I haven't." He told Tyrion. Without another word he stood to his feet and paced over to the small balcony overlooking the Trident. "Have you ever had regrets?" He asked out of nowhere, and the question had caught Tyrion off guard.

"Of course I have. Any honest man would tell you the same. It's an unfortunate truth of the world, but it befalls all men; small or large." Tyrion remembered Marwyn's advice of giving Aegon an ear to unload his problems and complaints on, so he encouraged him. "If you need someone to talk to, you know I'm always here for you don't you?"

Aegon had tensed up at that moment and Tyrion wondered if it was the wound he had suffered on his back from when he infiltrated the Twins. Maester Vyman had assured Tyrion that it would heal and it wouldn't hamper Aegon at all, but Tyrion had his doubts sometimes. "Thank you." It was small and carried as well as a whisper would. "I admit everything seems so overwhelming to me at times. And it seems like every step I take towards the throne, the more I see people suffer that shouldn't have ever had to."

"That's the tragedy of war. I know you feel these things harder than you should, but you need to learn to move past them. No King can be perfect, and sometimes you'll make the wrong decision and then look back and wonder why you chose that route. While other times you might do something on a whim and one day it will prove the best thing you've ever done."

Aegon's still displayed signs of frustration, but Tyrion was happy he was drawing him out of himself. "I'm supposed to be the King, and I can never lose my composure. But it seems like the weight of the Kingdom is always on my shoulders at every waking moment. How am I supposed to hide it and act like it doesn't faze me?"

"By letting others in. You don't need to hold the burden yourself, that's why you have a small council, Egg." Tyrion didn't know why he slipped and used that name for his King, but Aegon didn't seem to either notice or care.

"But a King is supposed to be the father of the land, I have to set an example of strength." He said back in a more hurried voice.

"You are, but you have time to learn your way. No King was ever perfect and you can't hold yourself to that impossible standard. It's not good for your sanity."

"What do you mean by that?" Aegon asked as he turned and looked at Tyrion over his shoulder.

"By what? I was just telling you not to hold yourself to these standards or it will tire and fatigue you." When Tyrion explained what he meant further, Aegon's hostility seemed to fade away and was replaced with his emotionless facade he wore of late when in private.

"Oh." Aegon exclaimed and then he turned from Tyrion towards the door, but before he left he stopped and asked in a small voice. "We're friends ... aren't we?"

That took Tyrion off his guard even further, as he had never thought about it himself. "Yes, I think we are." Tyrion didn't know truly know as the only one he thought to call his friend was a sellsword, who had abandoned him in his moment of utmost need.

It seemed to hurt Aegon, like Tyrion had slapped him and he did not know why. "I thought so."

Aegon moved to leave the room, but Tyrion knew he could not let it hang between them any longer. "Thank you, for sparing Jaime's life. You had no reason to, but you did and for that I'm in your debt ... for the second time it seems." Tyrion chuckled out, though he did feel happy enough to tear up.

"We're even, my friend. Trust me in that." Aegon said with finality and then he left the room without another word.

Tyrion could hear Edric through the door bounding off after Aegon like the dutiful squire he was. He sometimes found it amusing in a twisted sort of way that a child of Robert Baratheon would look up to Rhaegar's son like a hero. Edric however was growing bigger and stronger everyday, and he had already grown out of his squire wear, so Aegon had paid for a real suit of mail and leather for him just the other day. It had a tunic that went over the mail and it was coal black colored with a gold stag embroidered on the chest. He had wanted to train with a warhammer, but Brynden who had taken over his training had told him that he would need to learn his swordplay first.

He sat at the empty table for a while longer and in that time he finished off the rest of the flagon of wine, and Tyrion knew that he had to go visit Sansa today. After leaving the room, he saw his squire Bryce Cave leaning against a carved corner post. "Have a nice rest?" Tyrion asked him as Bryce rolled his eyes at the sight of his guardian.

"No, M'lord." He exclaimed back in a bored tone.

Tyrion chuckled and started walking towards the maester's rooms. "First to arrive and the last to leave, thats what you have to look forward to with me, Bryce." The tall boy followed a noticeable distance behind him, but his footsteps echoed off the stone floor loudly. "While I can't promise you the thrill of battle. I can promise that you will be handsomely rewarded in gold, and I can assure you that you'll find a knighthood when your squirehood with me is done. If you serve me well, I'll even make sure the King himself knights you." That proposition seemed to peak Bryce's interest greatly, as Tyrion heard his footsteps pick up to follow close behind.

They had passed by several servants who were working on the castle, some were hanging dragon and fish banners while others were scrubbing floors and walls. It brought memories of all the bodies in the Great Hall, all that blood and horror. He had Daven and his aunt sent to Casterly Rock to be buried in their crypt the Hall of Heroes. Jaime didn't have any words when Tyrion told him what happened, though Jaime didn't talk very much of late.

When they arrived outside of the maester's chambers, Tyrion saw a behemoth of a woman standing in front of the door. "Lady Brienne," Tyrion addressed her politely. She had become a usual sight of late, as she always followed after Sansa like a lost puppy, though a rather large puppy in truth, "Is Lady Stark in?"

Lady Brienne gave Tyrion an offhanded glance. "She is." To Tyrion's discomfort, she continued to block the door. "The maester just left."

"I'm actually here to see, Sansa." Tyrion saw a flicker if disapproval in the woman's eyes though it confused him why all still gained it when he visited Sansa. It had been crushing news that affected Tyrion much harder than it should have, and after he felt even worse for caring about it. When Aegon returned from the Vale he had informed Tyrion of Petyr Baelish's last vile act, which was an annulment to his marriage to Sansa on the grounds on non consummation. Aegon had offered to re-broker the marriage for Tyrion if he desired so, but he couldn't bring himself to force Sansa into a loveless marriage again. Though based on the stares he received from the Hangwoman once known as Catelyn Stark, he couldn't even imagine what would have happened if he took up Aegon's offer. "Care to let me pass?"

She did as he asked, but it was without any great haste. Lady Brienne also made sure to touch the sword on her hip, to prove her point that she did not like him one bit. "Your squire can stay outside."

"You are aware, Lady Brienne, that I'm the Hand of the King correct?" Tyrion had to hear what Brienne of Tarth had to say to that.

The huge woman bit the inside of her cheek like she had tasted something foul. "That may be so, but I don't serve your King."

Tyrion let loose a slight chuckle of amusement at her stupidity and bravery in being so honest and passed by her into the maester's room. After closing the door behind him, he spotted a small feather bed that contained a large sandy haired man who looked to be sleeping. Next to the bed sitting in a straight backed wooden chair, was the beautiful vision that was once his lady wife. When they had first arrived at Riverrun, her auburn hair had been dyed black to match Petyr Baelish's just like Aegon had said it was, but now the dye had been washed out and she looked even more perfect then he remembered. Her breasts had swelled and her hips had grown wider and he wasn't sure what it was, but she seemed to walk with a confidence that he had never seen on her before. It pained him in a dull way, but when he saw her and Harrold Arryn together, Sansa's face always lit up in joy.

"How does he fare?" Tyrion asked as he walked near.

Sansa didn't seem to notice him as she slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. "Hello, Lord Tyrion." Sansa exclaimed as she got to her feet and curtsied before him. "He was in some pain, so the maester gave him milk of the poppy."

From what Tyrion had heard, Harrold Arryn had been wounded in the battle when Aegon stuck his dagger in his belly. It had been a clean wound though and a maester with the army did not think that it would have any problems healing. But on the trip to Riverrun it got infected and he almost died of a fever. It was infected and green when he arrived at the castle and maester Vyman did not think he could be saved, but the new Lord of the Vale had hung on. Three days past, maester Vyman said that the worst of it had passed and he would live, though the scar would haunt and be a reminder to him for the rest life. Tyrion knew in truth that the Lord Arryn had Archmaester Marwyn to thank for his life, as he had been the one who taught Aegon where and where not to stab.

A likely rumor that had flown around the castle from the mouths of servants and squires, was that Harrold and Sansa would be married any time now that she was free to do her own will. When Tyrion saw how she looked at the man, he knew that she loved him. Though he did worry about Harry's known inclinations of whoring he knew that it was not his business any longer because Sansa was no longer his.

"It's good he is recovering. I hope to see him walking around on his own two feet soon." When Tyrion said it she seemed happy and most likely was smiling at the thought.

Sansa rubbed Harrold's hand while he slept, while looking at Tyrion and exclaimed. "I heard you allowed the annulment of our marriage."

"It wasn't truly my choice, that is a septon's power not mine I fear."

"Thank you." She said in a small and truly thankful voice that reaffirmed Tyrion that he did the right thing. "I'll see that we name a child after you."

Tyrion chuckled at the thought of a Lord Tyrion Arryn and shook his head at that proposition. "You wouldn't be so cruel as to name a child after a man such as me, Lady Stark. Better to name him after some brave hero or relative then after your former husband."

Sansa's eyes didn't seem to be deterred from the idea however. "I was just as surprised as you were when I heard of the annulment. Petyr had talked about doing it if for so long, but he never told me when he did it." A brief tinge of a smile threatened the corners of her mouth that Tyrion could barely notice. "I'm happy he's dead you know? He was a monster just like Joffrey was. A different kind mayhaps, but a monster is still a monster all the same. They may be hard to see, but after you see the true face of one, no one can hide the monster they really are inside." Sansa's bright blue eyes stared Tyrion down and he felt his stomach flutter when she did. "Your King is the same way."

 _I can assure you he's just as scared of you as you are of him._ Tyrion had wanted to say, but instead he shot back. "He saved you, spared Harrold, and he seeks to bring justice to all those who've wronged you. And yet you call him a monster? You've never been one to hold a grudge, especially over something so trivial as only wounding Harrold."

Tyrion saw her eyes light up in anger and he thought she would snap at him, but she contained herself at the last moment. "You don't know me, Lord Tyrion. You were always kind to me, but you never truly understood me and I won't fault you for that. But don't presume to judge me, you don't have that right. Now if you would please, I'd like to be alone with Harry."

"As you wish." Tyrion exclaimed rather bluntly, he did not want his voice to betray his true feelings, but that failed spectacularly. "I wish you all the luck in the world, you deserve all the happiness you can find after everything you've been through." Without another word shared between the two, Tyrion left the maester's chambers and strolled off to anywhere that was not where he was now. Bryce followed closely behind and could tell Tyrion did not want a conversation so he remained silent.

He knew Jaime would be in his chambers, and he did not feel like looking at his brother's face so he went to somewhere he wouldn't find anyone. "Bring me some parchment, ink, quills, and some wine to the Godswood." He did not care for the faith of the Old Gods, but it was a place to be private with his thoughts and it was an oddly warm day so he decided to enjoy it for as long as he could.

It had been quite the charming location Tyrion thought as he found a shaded seat under a tall redwood. It even had a good view of the slender weirwood which sat a few yards away. After his squire returned with Tyrion's goods, he was sent away to go practice his swordplay. He had several letters he had to write; one was to be sent to Jon Stark demanding that he abdicate to his sister Sansa. Another was royal declaration that for as long as the Brotherhood obeys his laws and does not take justice into their own hands then they will be tasked with handing out foodstuffs to villages in need and act as representatives for the smallfolk. The Hangwoman was rather furious when she learned of Lord Eddard Stark's bastard taking Winterfell, but she stayed for Sansa. It had not been visibly apparent at first glance that Sansa was frightened by the husk of her mother, but she was. Yet the Hangwoman still persisted in being near her, though she either did not seem to know or care that Sansa was afraid of her.

Tyrion had also written a letter to the Twins, telling them that Roslin Frey was now in their care and she would not be returned until her pregnancy was over. He in truth doubted that she would ever return, because Aegon certainly would not let her take Edmure's heir away and she herself would not want to leave the child behind. Aegon and the Brotherhood had also come back to Riverrun with the King of the North. His bones were collected in a trunk and his mother always kept them close at hand he was told. Lord Marq Piper had also been broken from captivity and his father was more than overjoyed and in Aegon's debt for that. The Greatjon Umber had departed for the North shortly after they had escaped the Twins and he had apparently swore to Aegon that it would never be forgotten. In response Aegon had given the giant of a man a simple letter. Tyrion himself wondered what it read, and wondered more so if the Greatjon could read it.

He had been sitting under the tree working until the sun started to dip in the sky, after looking and listening he heard several laughs and chuckles and he knew that supper was about to start. "I'll just have to finish this letter after supper." He exclaimed to himself as he pushed himself off the trunk of the tree and up to his feet.

"It's not prudent to lay work off to later times, Tyrion." Advised a wizened voice that Tyrion hadn't heard in a good long while. He could not help but smile as he turned to look at the source of the voice which belonged to the ox of an Archmaester. "So tell me, how's my Egg?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading, hope you all enjoyed. If you have time be sure to leave me a comment telling me how you felt about it, cause it really inspires me to make it over writers block when I know people are waiting for the next chapter.


	36. The Hardest Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got way out of hand in size, though I couldn't help it regardless of how hard I worked to shorten it. Nearly got it down to nine thousand words after three rewrites and four QCs. So it will be a long read and I can promise that next chapter is half it's length, so bare with me if you can.

Jon:

 

White Harbor was large and impressive, it seemed to never end as Jon looked out at it. He'd heard of cities that went on as far as the eye could see and that homed thousands of people, but he didn't think it would be like this. It smelled strongly of the sea, and he figured it was due to the large sea that stretched out behind it. The city looked clean enough from this distance, most roofs looked gray and the cobble stoned streets seemed to shine white. Jon had heard once that a very distant cadet branch of the Starks held land in White Harbor. He remembered maester Luwin saying that they were in the same position as the Arryns of Gulltown, and were little more than merchants and guard captains.

"Is it what you thought it'd be?" Asked Lawrence Snow who stopped his white mount beside Jon's own gray courser.

Jon didn't really know what to think. "It's larger than I thought. But it does smell better too." Stannis had sent dozens of letters to Wyman Manderly trying to bring him to terms, but Wyman wouldn't discuss it with a Baratheon. Jon had been sent as the token Stark, as Godry Farring japed behind Jon's back. The Manderlys were also noted as being the most faithful of the Northern Lords, his father had even made a point of explaining that to Robb. Jon had heard that they wouldn't take a side between Stannis and the Boltons because the Lannisters still had his son. So Jon truly didn't know if their was anything he could do to solve this, but he had to try. "No reason to keep staring at the walls." He exclaimed before reining his horse to a slow trot down the road.

Stannis had offered to send any knights Jon wanted with him, but Jon preferred to keep the R'hllor fanatics away from himself. So he brought Lawrence Snow the bastard of Hornwood, brave little Willum Slate, Karl Stout who is Jonelle Cerwyn's new husband, and the old warrior Brodrick Harclay. Jon wanted to bring Black Donnel Flint with him, but he knew that he had to leave someone he could trust with Val in case she got into trouble. Their marriage in his father's godswood had been a quiet affair with only Stannis, his guards, and the northern lords who appeared for it. Val had told him of a practice where a man and woman lay with each other before the weirwood, but it had been far too cold and the snow nearly reached Jon's shins when they said their vows.

"If we plan to stay at an inn, I'd advise we avoid the Lazy Eel. If the seven hells are real then at least one level is that bloody place." Warned Karl Stout who led them to the gates. He was the only one of their group who had been to White Harbor before, so Jon took him at his word, though he didn't think they would have need of an inn.

"Is that the place you told me about this morn?" Lawrence asked in a chuckle. "The place with o'hores so old that they could tell me of my grandfather's cock?"

Jon couldn't help himself and added his own chuckle to the chorus of northern laughter. "He told me the wine was viler than frog's puss. Though I'd be lying if I didn't want to test myself on it." Said the Slate boy.

"I hope you're talking about the wine and not the women." Jon jested back, and in response Willum stuck his tongue out at him.

Their fun didn't seem to faze Brodrick Harclay who warned them. "Gatemen seem a tad bit nervous." Jon looked at what he meant. The men who stood before the open city gate wore blue green woolen tunics embroidered with merman over hauberks of shiny ringmail.

"Lawrence, raise the standard." Jon ordered him. The bastard of Hornwood rose the Stark banner on Jon's order to show the men that they were friends and not foes. To Jon's relief they did seem to lose some tension when they saw the banner flapping in the sea air. 

"State your business with that Stark banner." Asked a man who was obviously in some place of importance, as he wore a helmet that resembled a creature that was half fish and half man.

Jon meant to speak up for himself, but Brodrick answered for him. "This is Lord Jon Stark. He is your liege's lord and you owe him proper respect." It was abrasive and blunt, but it did seem to make the mermen take much more notice.

The supposed leader of the garrison nodded his head before he looked Jon up and down as if he were studying him. "Aye, we heard you were arriving any day now." He walked over to a tanned horse and climbed up it. "Follow me Lord Stark, my cousin Lord Wyman has asked me to escort you to New Castle."

Jon followed after the man and he heard his companions fall in behind himself. "May I have your name, Ser?"

"It's Ser Marlon, Lord Stark." Marlon Manderly replied back. Though he seemed to be in a foul mood due to his tone, Jon wasn't sure if the man was always like this or if he had irked him in some manner. Jon had to admit that he didn't wish to anger the man, as Marlon Manderly was tall brute of a man that easily towered over him, and Jon wagered that the man weighed five or more stones than himself.

Jon didn't dare turn back to look at his companions who were still jesting back and forth with each other. Jon just couldn't risk their escort finding anymore offence or signs of weakness, and Jon figured Brodrick was doing the same. "Looks like we won't get to learn how big your forefathers were, sorry Snow." Japed Willum Slate. For a quick moment Jon thought Karl was speaking to him before he remembered that he was no longer a snow, but a true Stark.

"Have you ever been to White Harbor, Lord Stark?" Marlon asked him in a flat and inattentive voice.

"I haven't truthfully, but it is impressive though."

Marlon seemed to find some accusation in Jon's words as he said back in an accusatory manner. "Did you think it wouldn't be so? The Manderlys are known as the richest house in the North."

"That is quite apparent to us all, Ser Marlon." Exclaimed Karl Stout who was now paying full attention to this game of words Marlon was waging. "We've met before, it was at Wylis Manderly's thirtieth name day celebration. I believe that was almost six years ago."

"Odd, I don't seem to recall you."

Karl let out a polite chuckle. "I was much younger then so it's expected, but my name is Karl of house Stout. Or I suppose it was Stout, but now that my lady wife has blessed me with her name, and taken me as her consort. It's Karl of the prestigious house Cerwyn." It was a feeble attempt at a jest, but he was brave to attempt one at all.

And yet it still didn't scratch Marlon's stern and frankly cold demeanor. "I see my sister's disgrace is with you all." He made no effort to hide his distaste when he said it, and Jon was just waiting for him to spit right after for all the anger it held.

Jon didn't know exactly what he was talking about. Jon did reason that this couldn't go any worse than it has, so he took the bait Marlon laid. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand your meaning, Ser?"

Marlon chuckled in an incredulous way and turned on his horse to look back at them. "My sister was Donella Hornwood, and my goodbrother was the father of that whelp with you." For all the anger it seemed his voice had for the 'whelp'. His anger rose to new peaks when he said 'goodbrother'.

Lawrence Hornwood didn't know what to say, which seemed to be a feeling shared by all. Though Jon didn't think any of them felt so stupid as he did right then.  _I never should have brought him, why didn't I remember who his father's wife was?_ Jon kicked himself over his oversight and feeling of discomfort as he rode, but thankfully it turned into a silent ride to New Castle after that. Which all were deeply thankful for, namely Jon and Lawrence, who was still only a boy of two and ten.

As they approached the exit of the city which led to the New Castle, Jon admired how grand it looked up on it's hill. It was no scratch on Winterfell, but it was a white castle that seemed to shine in the backdrop of grey that was the sky. The merman sigil of house Manderly flew proudly on each of it's five wide and square towers, and the snow had all been cleared off of the steps leading to the castle. After they had climbed the steps on their steeds, a compliment of what looked to be household guards spread out and lined themselves up to greet Jon and his followers. Each man had a pristine blue-green merman cloak, and a trident in their right hand while silver shield rested in their left. Jon had been enamored with their uniqueness, before Willum had alerted him to the three rotting heads mounted on the castle walls white walls. Though the heads were less intriguing than what laid underneath them, which was the standards of house Frey tied to the wooden shafts that held the heads up. One head in particular looked to be the favorite of the gulls who had plucked both eyes out and had eat part of a cheek, it was difficult to look beyond the carnage, but he could see a silky beard on it. The whole scene did give Jon hope however that Lord Manderly was no longer with the Crown.

After being led to the stables; which rested inside the castle's foregrounds right before the castle's front entrance. Jon couldn't help but notice how heavily armed and armored all the household guards were. "You'll need to leave your weapons outside." Marlon informed them just as he climbed down from his hand and right before his hand slid down to the hilt of his own silver handled blade.

"Why is that?" Brodrick Harclay asked in an accusatory manner, as he didn't seem at all willing to part with his double sided felling axe.

"No disrespect intended, but it's for the safety of our Lord." Explained Marlon, though that answer didn't satisfy anyone. Especially not Jon, who remembered the same deception being played by the Freys on his brother Robb and his bannermen.

A feminine voice rang out from the top of the stairs leading inside of the castle. "You needn't fear treachery, Lord Stark. We Manderlys remember our debts and our oldest and truest friends." The girl was dressed in a dress so blue it looked like it was made from the sky itself. But Jon was sure that everyone of them was drawn to the strange braid of green hair that was hanging off her shoulder, not to mention her impressive bust that Jon was embarrassed to admit his eyes were drawn to. "You can all leave your weapons on your horses if you don't trust my uncle Marlon with them." The girl's voice was rather high pitched, though it wasn't the worst Jon had ever heard.

Jon shot all of the men and Willum a look that told them, 'just do as they wish'. Jon didn't like leaving Longclaw behind, but he didn't fear anyone would steal his sword, just his life. "My name is Jon Stark, my lady ..." He paused to discern her name.

The girl attempted a curtsy for Jon, and even though in truth it looked rough and shoddy, he felt the attempt itself was charming. "My name is Wylla, mayhaps you might know my father as Wylis Manderly?"

Jon didn't know the man besides his name, but he did know the rumors which said he was still held prisoner by the Lannisters. "Sadly I have not met him in person I'm afraid. But I would like to one day, he was said to be very loyal to my brother Robb."

A bright and toothy smile broke on Wylla's face. "You can meet him him today if you wish, Lord Stark." With of wave of her hand she motioned for Jon and his companions to follow her into the castle. All while Ser Marlon and the armed guards followed behind them closely, with their weapons at the ready.

"I didn't know Lord Wylis was back, I had heard he was still held captive down south." As they walked through the halls of the castle Jon himself had felt compelled to stop and admire some of the trophies they hung on their walls. Which consisted of rusty weapons hanging over inscriptions that no doubt told their tales, and of pieces that looked like they broke off of some mighty warship.

"It required a great sacrifice on my families side, but in the end, all that matters is family. Would you not agree, Lord Stark?" She didn't sound so sure herself, but Jon did realize that the girl was much wiser than her years would suggest.

"I would, take it from someone who has lost everyone. It is the worst pain imaginable, to lose someone you love." Jon's heart wandered to his family and Ygritte as he said it, though in his head Val was all he could actually see anymore.

Wylla seemed intrigued by his answer, so she asked him a tough question that Jon himself had struggled with his entire life. "Even more than honor?" Jon struggled to give her an answer, but none came to him.

It had only taken a few more moments before they all reached the grand hall, and grand was it ever. Wylla called it the Merman's Court and that is exactly what it looked like to Jon, as a myriad of ocean dwelling creatures were painted on the floors, walls, and even ceilings. There were many less people there than Jon thought there would be. He counted roughly only ten or twenty people, not including the guards, or Wylla. Sitting atop the dais on a large cushioned throne was one of the fattest men Jon had ever seen in his life. Jon knew it wasn't kind, but Stannis' name for the man came flooding back into his mind, and he had to resist the urge to smile dumbly. 'Lord-Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse' and Gods if he wasn't. From Jon's estimate he couldn't have been less than twenty stone, and it would surprise him to learn that he was thirty.

"Now introducing, the most honorable Lord Jon of House Stark." Announced a fair haired man in the court who Jon guessed was the herald, though in truth Jon didn't know why he needed such a grandiose entrance in such a private venue.

Wyman Manderly seemed to be studying Jon closely, while his fat sausage like fingers beat against the white gold handles of his throne. "Welcome to my home, Lord Stark. I hope the snows didn't trouble you." He exclaimed in a kind voice after a brief and momentary pause.

Jon knew to be wary around the man, so he made sure to keep himself guarded. "Not at all, Lord Manderly. I must tell you that your castle is most beautiful. Easily one of the greatest I have ever stepped foot in." He said with his best and most charming smile.

The creases of fat on Wyman's face sunk deep when smiled back down at Jon. "While that is most kind, I do believe my granddaughters would have preferred those words directed towards them." When he said it, Wylla's face turned crimson and her eyes darted down to her feet. While a brunette girl beside her with an even more impressive bust, but bigger frame paled though she managed not to look away.

"Any man would be lucky to have either of them, my Lord," Jon exclaimed while he gave bright and kind smiles to each of the two girls. He had wanted to reassure them, but it seemed to have the opposite effect as the buxom girl beside Wylla even had to look away from his direction then.

"But not you, Lord Stark?" Wyman asked with a look of pure confusion on his round face.

Jon knew that the man had to have known the truth, but he played along all the same to save face. "I'm already married, I'm afraid."

Wyman let out a small and uncomfortable chuckle that was shared with all the others in the hall. "Aye, we've heard of your ... lady wife. A wildling woman if the rumors are to be believed. How exciting I imagine."

"She is, and I love her quite fiercely." Jon wanted to make his stance known on this matter, lest they make any offhanded comments before him. Because Jon didn't know if he would be able to hear any offense directed to her in peace. "You know why I'm here, Lord Wyman. So have you made your choice?"

The Lord of New Castle then shifted uncomfortably on his throne. His face showed a range of emotions that consisted of sadness and grief. "I admit it's been a struggle for me, as I've hardly been able to eat a bite for near a fortnight straight. I have heard some very troubling things about this Stannis Baratheon and his faith of fire, and it worries me greatly."

"I can promise you that all of the rumors against him are false." Jon had been dealing with this for quite some time already, as all of the Northern Lords heard rumors of Stannis having forced wildlings to convert and burn weirwoods, Jon assured them all that he wouldn't force them to convert, and that their godswood were safe.

"Are they? Is it not true that he burns men alive, Lord Stark?" Wyman asked Jon naively and it angered him a tad as if he didn't know the truth for himself.

Jon himself had always protested the burnings as cruelty and blind zealously, but Stannis usually ignored Jon's council even though he himself agreed with that sentiment. "Traitors and enemies, yes."

Wyman's face then took on a look of true fear, though Jon felt it was mocking at best and insulting at worst. "And it is me in the unfortunate position of being his enemy now, isn't it?"

"But you don't have to be, Lord Wyman. That is why I've come here today, I wish for the Manderlys and Starks to be brothers in arms once again." Jon remembered hearing stories of the debt the Manderlys claim to forever owe to the Starks. His father personally had always held Lord Wyman Manderly himself in high esteem.

Wyman made of show of looking around the room, but more specifically at Jon and his companion's feet. "I heard you possessed a direwolf, but I don't see him with you on this day. Why is that pray tell?"

Jon turned back to look at his companions who were all just as tense as himself, but none so much as Brodrick who looked quite angry and not scared. After turning forward to look at Lord Wyman who still wore a bright and inquisitive smile, Jon told him. "I left Ghost back at Winterfell with my wife." It still felt strange for Jon to say it out loud, but she was his wife and he knew that he had to get used to saying it.

"That is unfortunate," Wyman exclaimed with a deep frown. "I had hoped to see it for myself. The rumors of them say that they can grow to be as big as horses." Wyman looked down at the others in his court and pointed down at the girl beside Wylla. "I know my granddaughter, Wynafryd wished it see it as well."

Jon looked at the girl who had brown hair pulled back in a long braid and gave her another kind smile. Which was one that she didn't return and instead her eyes drifted to a crab painted on the floor. "Mayhaps next time, but I still need your answer, Lord Wyman."

Wyman bobbed his head several times over, and his face soon turned to a frown after the fourth or fifth time bounce. "Unfortunately, I have not made my decision yet."

It was frustrating Jon to no end, how leisurely and absentmindedly Wyman spoke to him. "And when will that be, Lord Wyman? I can only stay for two more days and I need to have an answer before I leave."

"Rest assured, I believe I will have made my mind by tomorrow's dawn." Wyman looked down to his servants and ordered to them. "Bring Lord Stark and his companions to their rooms. I'm sure they are all very tired from their rides."

Jon begrudgingly followed them out of the Merman's Court. While they walked throughout the castle, Jon had heard Lawrence whisper to Karl. "Not one person in the court would meet my gaze."

"I know, it was the same for me." Admitted Karl Stout who had a look of the dead man as he followed after Jon. "This place isn't safe, they didn't even offer us bread and salt," Karl whispered to Jon as he walked so close behind him that if Jon had stopped then he would have knocked him over.

Jon realized that too, though he had thought and hoped it just slipped Lord Wyman's mind. "Keep on your guard," Jon advised him without another word. The servants leading them hadn't spoken one word amongst themselves. Jon figured they were just listening closely, and hoping to hear something to report back to their lord for a pat on the head.

They all had separate rooms and all were very far apart and in different parts of the castle. Brodrick had been brought to a lower room in the west, while Lawrence was housed in a southern tower, and Willum had been housed in a northern tower. He never learned where they led Karl as they split up on the way to Jon's chambers in the eastern quadrant. The man who led him there seemed kind enough and even conversed with Jon about the city and the Manderlys on the walk throughout the castle. His name was Halder and he looked to be nearing his sixtieth year Jon thought, and the man had long snow white hair that balded on the center but was pulled behind his shoulders. Jon asked him about Lord Wyman's son Wylis, and he was informed of how he had only come home a few days prior.

"Here it is, M'lord." Announced Halder as he opened the door to Jon's rooms. "It has always been kept especially for the Starks. No one else is permitted to stay here, but the head of your house." It did look quite decadent and looked like it could hold a small family, as it had five rooms connecting to the center solar. The direwolf of house Stark had been embedded within the stone floor with what looked to be seashells, with onyx stones for the eyes that seemed to be a big as Jon's fists. Jon however held off his vocal judgement until he had a walk through each of the rooms, and he made sure he kept his eyes open to any treachery all the while. "It was made in such a way, that from one window you can see all of White Harbor, while in another you can see the mighty Wolf's Den."

"So you can." Jon exclaimed and truthfully he did feel that it was all very impressive. It did show him how much the Manderlys value, or valued the Starks at one point. Though he couldn't tell which it was any longer. "It's beautiful, I must admit that. I am truly honored that the Manderlys favor my family in such a way."

Halder bowed his head and smiled like a kindly old man should smile, Jon thought. "They remember very well the debt that they will forever owe to the Starks. Their family was taken in and fostered when they were at their lowest, and not only that, but the Starks of old gifted them their most important city." Halder walked over to a mahogany table that dominated the corner of the room and dusted it off with a cloth of white silk. "They owe all their wealth and happiness to your ancestors, and as such they are taught at a young age to honor and respect the direwolf." His smile hung in the air even after he turned back to Jon from his dusting. "Poor Wylis will never be the same after all that he suffered fighting down south for our King Robb."

Jon felt a pang his chest at hearing them still refer to his brother as 'King Robb'.  _For a king he should have been._ Jon thought to himself privately even to this day, and even after all Stannis has done for him. "You told me that he had returned, but I did not see him in court today. Is he not well?"

The old man's face crinkled in pain then, but not for long. "My Lord Wylis has seen better days I'm afraid, but he is getting healthier and better everyday he spends with his family. So with the Seven's blessing, he will get back to the Wylis of old." Halder stuffed the silk cloth back in his belt and led Jon into the master bedchamber. "Do you know what he asked Lord Wyman when he first stepped off of the ship that carried him home?" Jon shook his head as Halder searched around the room for anything that looked to not be pristine and perfect. "He said, 'when will we avenge our King.' It made my old heart ache it did, almost as much as when we got news of poor Wendel's murder. And it only got worse when those thrice damned Frey's tried to feed us their fables of the Red Wedding. They told us stories of how the northmen turned into beasts of old, and of how they were merely defending themselves."

"I've heard their stories myself. How could they possibly think anyone would believe them? It was simple lunacy and stupidity."

"It was. When we heard news of what happened at Winterfell, we disposed of the Freys who were sent here to watch us." Halder explained as he walked over to a window near the corner of the room and pointed out to the walls. "There they are now." Jon looked at where he directed and it was to the three heads he saw on his journey into the castle. "They thought that they were to have Wylis' daughters. Used to jape and jest of the night they would take their maidenheads, in full hearing of all. Lord Wyman was forced to sit and listen to their filth all the while or else his son would be harmed. M'ladies Wynafryd and Wylla suffered worse I'm afraid, as they had to deal with their lecherous ways. Because of their love for their father they couldn't object and needed to act interested and happy with the match."

"And yet now they are dead, and still they sent you back Wylis. Why is that? Did they really think you would uphold their peace after all that had happened?" Jon wondered and it seemed like this man had the answers he sought.

Halder shrugged his shoulders weakly. "I'm simply a servant, M'lord. A very old one, but still just a servant. So unfortunately I don't have the answers you seek." Halder gave one last look around the room and he seemed to be proud of what he saw then. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other rounds to make before supper." He walked past Jon and back into the solar of the rooms.

Jon followed him back out of the bedchamber and asked. "Will you be coming back to escort me to supper?"

The old servant stopped dead and spun back around to Jon with a flushed look and very twitchy fingers. "Unfortunately, the dining hall is in much disrepair at the moment. Most are taking their suppers in their rooms, for at least the next moon. So I will be the one bringing you supper tonight, I hope that is acceptable?"

 _Odd, I didn't hear noises of construction throughout our entire walk of the castle. Though we did stay clear of the_ _center._ "It sounds like that is out of my hands, I however would like to visit my companions. Could you show me to Karl Stout's room if it is not too much of a burden?"

"I'm not sure I know that man?" Halder exclaimed in a serious tone.

"He was the last man with us before we split up." Jon reminded the old servant while studying him closely for any signs of deceit.

Halder nodded his head and hung his mouth wide open showing off his missing and rotting head of teeth. "Ahh yes, he was the proud looking man with black hair, correct?" Jon nodded as it sounded right, though arrogant and vain fitted Karl more than proud. Jon did like the man truthfully, but his stories and the way he extols his past adventures wore thin on Jon the very first night of their ride to White Harbor. "I'm afraid I don't know where he is staying, but I could inquire of your behalf to locate him."

"I could just go find him myself, I don't want to trouble you if you have a job to accomplish." Jon made to step past the servant who blocked the door with his body.

"M'lord Manderly has made it quite clear that he doesn't want guests to be wandering the castle with all the work being done on it." Halder flashed another kind smile to project a neutral stance to Jon. "But after I make my rounds, I would be more than pleased to escort around the castle."

Jon felt like it wasn't meant to be a question, and that was why Halder didn't leave it open ended. "Fine, that would be more than acceptable." Without another word exchanged between them, Halder bowed out of the room and shut it behind him. Jon felt an urge to just leave anyway, but he knew that it wouldn't serve to improve Manderly's mood if he was found out. So Jon sat on the balcony overlooking White Harbor instead and stared out at the waves crashing against the shore. The port was for the most part rather empty and it didn't look like the workers planned on ships anytime soon, as Jon couldn't see anyone on the docks beside fishermen.

Jon didn't know how long he sat there for, but he did know that the sun was still high in the sky when started, but now it was gone and the moon was shining dimly over the white city. He had wondered if the servant had forgotten about him or if he never planned to return, when a knock echoed off of his door followed by Halder's voice. "Supper, M'lord Stark."

"Come in," Jon told him as he got up from the stone chair and stretched all his stiffness out.

When the door opened, Halder walked in with two silver platters balancing precariously on his palms. "Sorry to keep you waiting, M'lord. But your supper has arrived." Halder then placed both trays down on the large table and smiled expectantly at Jon.

After walking back into the room and taking a seat, Halder removed the lids and exposed Jon's foodstuffs. "What is all this?" Jon asked in a chuckle of confusion. As the food set down before him couldn't be meant for him as piled on the first tray was nearly ten thick cuts of what looked to be a boar. While circles of pomegranates, lemons, and limes surrounded the tray like a wall. Jon knew just by looking at it that it could feed a family of six smallfolk and leave them leftovers for stew the next day.

"Is something wrong?" Halder asked as if everything about the portions were correct and normal.

Jon chuckled again as he looked at how thick the cuts were as they looked to be nearly the width of his thumb each. "I can't possibly eat all of this. it's far too much food."

Halder smiled and looked down at the portions. "Eat what you can, M'lord. I didn't know how hungry you would be, I do humbly apologize for assuming what you would want."

"No need, it looks delicious. It was just too much food is all." Jon wished that he had a meal of that size when they were freezing in the crofters village however, as those nights where he slept with an empty belly were nights he never wanted to relive. "Did you forget that I needed you to bring me to my friend?"

The old man's face twinged in shock and he bowed his head humbly before Jon. "I am so sorry, M'lord. The castle was just in such a ruckus at the moment it slipped my mind. But how about I give you the full tour of the New Castle and the Wolf's Den on the morn?"

Jon picked up his dinner fork and knife and sized up the best way to delve into his feast. "Whats wrong with after supper?"

"I suppose that could be done, but this was last stop before my shift was over. I had hoped to go back to the city and see my grandbabies, but it can be done-"

"I won't keep you from your family just to sate my curiosity, as you said you can escort me later." Jon didn't truly want to hinder this old man and steal him from his family. After cutting a chunk of the boar and chewing on it, Jon's mouth exploded with the sweet flavor brought on by the fruit. 

Halder bowed his head again and removed the second lid to the silver platter which contained a crystal pitcher and one golden goblet bejeweled with black sapphires, red rubies, and white diamonds. "M'lord is far too kind. May I pour you some arbor gold?"

 _Arbor gold? If Lord Wyman isn't trying to charm me I don't know what his game is._ "That would be fine." Jon told the man who then filled the cup to the brim. "You don't need to stand around and wait for me to finish eating, go and enjoy your family." Jon ordered the old man. Halder didn't argue and did as just as he was bid, but not before telling Jon that he would collect his leftovers in the morn.

The food was good and Jon surprised himself by finishing a fourth of it and three glasses of arbor gold. And after standing from the table, Jon's bed called him like a siren would call sailors at sea. He tucked himself under the covers and his body thanked him as he sunk down into the soft bed. The wine had taken quite an effect on him as he struggled to remember Val's face or even how it felt to be inside her. With a quick turn of his side, Jon found his sleep soon after.

He woke in a fright somewhere in the night when it was he didn't know as the moon was still high in the sky. "Open up, quickly!" Called out a voice while a banging battered his door. "Quickly, Lord Stark." The high pitched voice urged him out of his comfortable and tempting bed.

After stumbling out of his bed, Jon thought he heard a shout from outside his balcony, but he was more focused on making it to his door without falling. "What is it?" Jon asked after he finally made it to his door. Jon unbolted his door and opened it to see Wylla Manderly standing before him in a pure white shift while her green hair flowed freely down her back. "Wylla Manderly?" Jon asked in confusion as the girl pushed past him and closed the door.

"What took you so long?" She complained as she bolted the door shut. "Didn't you hear me calling?" Wylla then placed her head against his door and listened closely. It seemed she was satisfied because soon after she ran past him further into the room.

Jon followed her in a half drunken stumble and asked. "What the hell are you doing here? It's the middle of the night, girl. You should be sleeping and not sneaking into married men's rooms." Jon felt she had some type of crush on him, but he never thought she would be so bold as this.

When he said it, he felt like an idiot due to the look she gave him and the way her eyes rolled. "Don't you hear them? The small ginger who was with you was screaming his head off not too long ago." Just as she said it, another loud howl rang out and to Jon's horror, it was Brodrick's voice, which sobered him quickly and sponged away the haziness of his mind.

"What treachery is your grandfather doing?" Jon demanded as he grabbed Wylla tightly by the shoulders. "Tell me!" Jon screamed as Wylla hesitated under his grip.

The girl look frightened at first, but soon her eyes took on a look of fire and courage. "All I know is that your men are being rounded up and dragged away. The ginger boy's screams woke me and I came here immediately after to warn and help you."

Jon didn't want to believe her, but he felt compelled to when she wouldn't back down or cower under his gaze. After all why would she come to him before the soldiers could unless her intentions were pure, Jon knew that he could overpower her and use her as a bargaining chip otherwise. "How can you help me?" Jon asked as he released her.

A small smile tinged her lips before she turned away and led him into another bedchamber though this one was meant for children. Just to be sure, Jon closed the door and tipped a cabinet over in front of it to make sure any pursuers would have a rough time. When he looked around the room, he saw Wylla leaning into a fireplace. "Come and help me, I can't get it open." Wylla complained and Jon walked to her and nudged her from his way to see what she was talking about. "Can you see it? It's just an iron handle, pull on it and it should give way."

"Aye, I see it." Jon informed her as he struggled to pull on it. The whole space was snug and Jon barely could fit without moving. "I got it." Jon exclaimed as it pulled the hatch up and revealed a hole and ladder that descended. "What is this-"

Wylla pushed past him and climbed down into it. "Quickly, we don't have much time. Just climb down after me." She commanded him before disappearing down into the black abyss. After he hesitated she screamed back up. "Now, Lord Stark!"

Jon knew that he didn't have any choice, but to trust the girl unless he wanted to be captured and killed. After descending down the rickety and wobbling ladder, Jon felt his bare feet touch down on the extremely cold stone floor.  _I should have put my boots on._ Jon still felt a slight stumble in his steps and try as he did to find Wylla in the darkness he simply couldn't. "Wylla where did you go?"

Her voice seemed distant, but she did call out to him. "This way and quickly." As did as she bid and stumbled further into the darkness. When he drew near to her, he could see her petite frame outlined. "Grab my hand and keep up." She demanded and before he could comply she grabbed him the wrist and dragged him along. "The tunnel should take us to the Wolf's Den right below the stables. Most of the men stationed there were called here to welcome you to White Harbor. So I'm sure we can make it there before they do with your friends."

"How did you know about this? And why are you helping me, shouldn't you obey your grandfather?"

Wylla hesitated and remained silent for a good long while of their jog through the dark tunnel. "Me and my sister used to play here as children and pretend to be the wife of a Stark. Eventually she found the hatch and later in life we realized that it was one of the mystical tunnels our father told us about." Suddenly they came to a stop and Wylla reached out with her hand and tapped another wooden ladder. "And to your second question, I remember well the stories my grandfather instilled in us as children about the loyalty we owe your family." Wylla stood out his way then and pulled on his arm. "Now climb, you'll need to lift the next hatch I feel."

Jon then climbed up the ladder, which he felt was much taller than the former. The hatch to his relief was much looser than the one back in New Castle. "It's open." Jon exclaimed as he pulled himself out of the darkness and into what looked to be a stable of sorts. "Give me your hand." He told Wylla who did as he bid. After pulling her out and shutting the hatch, Jon creeped over to the low wall and looked out to the courtyard. What he saw was a obese man standing in the courtyard while his sausage like fingers wrapped around a horse's reins. "What is this?" Jon asked in a panic right before Wylla ran by him into the open.

"I brought him, Grandfather," Wylla exclaimed to Wyman Manderly, who had a face of happiness and relief when he saw her.

Wyman smiled at her and ruffled her loose hair. "I knew I could trust you, my girl." Wyman then looked over to Jon and called out to him. "Lord Stark, if you hope to escape this, then you must come and quickly at that."

Jon scanned the courtyard and didn't see anyone besides the two contrasting Manderlys. "What treachery have you committed, Lord Manderly? I came to you as a friend and you try to imprison me and my friends! I've heard all my life that your house is one of honor and loyalty, and is this the truth of it all?" Jon was furious and the flabby face of the Lord Lamprey looked perfect for Jon to express it on.

Though if Wyman was actually scared for his own safety and life he didn't show it visually. "I'm sorry for all that has happened, Lord Stark. But I was left with no choice."

"Why?"

"For my son, Lord Stark. He is my last child and I couldn't let him precede me to the grave." Wyman's face paled as he said it, but it didn't seem to break his vocals. "And yet this is not my only dishonor. My ancestors and Gods curse me, but I broke the vow I swore to your family." Wylla's own vision seemed to linger somewhere that was wasn't near Jon, as her grandfather continued. "Your brother Rickon is alive."

It hit Jon like a punch to the gut, but it wouldn't falter him. "Rickon? Where is he? Do you have him, tell me!" Jon demanded and it seemed to crush Wyman's soul even more.

"Gone and far away," Wyman admitted his shame before Jon, He seemed to be such a weaker and more fragile man now then he had been back in the Merman's Court. "There are dark magic's returning to this world, terrible evils that I cannot explain.

Jon was even angrier now, how dare Lord Manderly blame magic for his betrayal. "Tell me, where is my brother." He now longer asked the man, he told him. For he would either tell him the truth or he would be made to squeal.

"I couldn't trust anyone in my court, not even my own family besides Wylla here. I had Rickon brought back from hiding in Skagos, I used Stannis' smuggler Davos Seaworth to do it. I promised him my loyalty if he saved Rickon, and by the Gods I meant to keep that oath. However the day before Rickon arrived, a letter flew from Riverrun. The Dragon King knew about everything, I don't know if someone in my own home has turned traitor or if he can read my heart, but I swear to you he knew everything. He demanded that I send him Rickon Stark and in return he would give me back my son. Refuse and he would end my male line with a swing of his own sword he promised. I fought over it for three days, and it is my shame to admit that I couldn't let my Wylis suffer that. So I sent the Smuggler, Rickon, and his wolf down south. Not two days later my Wylis stepped off his transport and returned to me."

"Grandfather, we can't have much time. Say what you must and send him away." Wylla exclaimed before she ran to the open gate of the once mighty fortress.

Lord Manderly held the reins out to Jon and kept them there until the Stark took them. "He offered to keep me and my city fed for all of the winters if I captured and handed you over to him. But I couldn't, I planned to before you showed up in my court. When you walked in and I looked at your face, all I could see was your father looking back at me. It hurt my heart to no end."

"Then why all of this farce? You should have told when I first arrived!" Jon wanted desperately to strike this man for giving Rickon up to his enemies, but it seemed so heartfelt his body would only let him climb the horse.

"I needed to make it look convincing in case someone was watching, the letter warned of the Targaryen's wroth should I prove false, and I simply couldn't risk it. Your companions won't be harmed I can assure you, but now you need to flee back to your King and tell him of my treachery. Then you need to send your army here in retaliation. I will surrender to you after three days and you must judge me as if my attempt was true. I will take all blame, and now it is me in the position of begging you to let it end in my life. Whatever you and your King choose to do, you must spare my family. That is all I can ask of you."

"This is all lunacy, and you've lost your mind. I've seen magic first hand, and none of them are like what you speak of. Just tell your men to end this farce and we can work together. We can get my brother back." Jon didn't know what to think anymore, he seemed so genuine, and yet he seemed genuine and honest earlier as well.

"They're coming!" Wylla screamed as she fled back to her grandfather's side. "He needs to go and we need to return to our rooms before we are spotted and it all ends."

Jon reared his horse back but he needed to know more. "What does he want with Rickon? Does he mean to harm him?"

"As I said ... dark magics are returning to the world. It spoke of a son for a son, rumors of a Hangwoman resembling the late Lady Stark are told in only whispers. But I would hurry back to your King and plan your next move. Now go Lord Stark, when you return to take my head I'm sure we'll have time for all of your questions." Lord Wyman then raised his hand and gave the horse a hard slap that sent it into a sprint.

 _We will, Lord Wyman._ Jon promised as the horse sprinted through the gates and he turned it towards the dense woods. He did not have time to notice before he climbed it, but he did notice while riding that it was his saddle along with his own saddlebags on the horse. "I will get you back, Rickon. And no one will stop me from getting my family back this time." Jon promised the wind, Gods, his horse, and himself just as his hand found its way to the familiar and comfortable grip of Longclaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment telling me so. And if you had problems with this chapter tell me or I'll never know how to improve.
> 
> Wasn't very happy with the end result of this chapter even though I took off Saturday to write it. I ended up finishing three more chapters ahead of this due my writers block, so there is that I suppose.


	37. Gulltown

Arya:

 

"Have you ever been to Westeros?" Elenai asked Arya as they both hung over the front mast of the Porchard. Arya herself had her hands pressed against the neck of the bronze fish head of the ship.

Arya shook her head as she looked over the sea towards Gulltown. It was a dirty town, in truth it looked to be more of a city. The gull part of it's name seem well deserved though, as Arya knew gulls always congregated around cities near the coast, but she swore it looked to be thousands of them in sky. Their cries were loud and the entire ship had heard them long before they could ever see the city. Arya almost felt as if they were welcoming them. Elenai had to shake Arya gently before she remembered to answer. "No, but my father had many times before. I had been speaking their common tongue since I was five years old."

"Mine's horrible, the captain said so himself." Elenai seemed to sulk at every minor complaint anyone found with her, and frankly Arya had found it annoying long ago. "I'm sure you and Liane will have no trouble finding handsome lordly husbands. You two can at least converse with them, while I'll have to grunt and screech just to get their attention and hope that they find me pretty enough."

The port looked to be bursting at it's seams to Arya, and she wondered where Captain Ben planned to dock the ship. Even from far out at sea she could see a tall, but ugly and uninspired tower that stood over all other structures in the Gulltown. She wondered if it was Gulltower she'd heard was where house Shett lived. "You seemed to be quite friendly with the Captain, so what's wrong with him?" Arya asked her acquaintance absentmindedly.

Elenai flinched from that as if Arya had struck her. After pushing her light blond hair back over her ears which was already disheveled from the blowing wind, she sniffled out. "I was a fool, I tried to bring the matter up and he told me that he would never marry me as the sea was already his wife."

 _What did you expect? That you were the first girl?_ Arya had desperately wanted to scream at Elenai, but the girl was already was more hurt than Arya wanted to make her. "I'm sorry." She forced herself to say.

"Are you gonna stay on board? Or are you gonna find your fortunes here?"

"I'm not staying, I have places I need to go and people to see."  _And kill._ "Mayhaps you should go back home. I heard they have one trip to Pentos and then they're going back to Braavos." Arya knew Elenai was far too naive to make it out here by herself, and it was a pity that no one told her sooner. For it would have have saved her a lot of pain and time.

The girl let out a small and sad giggle. "I never told my family before I left. I knew my father would have tied me down to my bed if I asked him to go, but I wanted to so I did anyway. I don't even know If I have a home waiting for me any longer."

"You won't know until you go back." She reminded her. Arya herself still looked out to the ever nearing city. "And you'll regret it forever if you don't try, trust me."

Elenai then sniffled loudly and swallowed hard. "How do you know? Did your family know you were leaving?"

"My family is dead." Arya exclaimed in the best tone of sadness she could muster. "I have only one cousin left, and she's who I came to find."  _Lies sprinkled with truths._  She remembered the Kindly Man telling her.

That seemed to unnerve Elenai, and they were nearly inside the harbor before she opened her mouth again. "I'm so sorry for your loss. I couldn't imagine losing any of my brothers and sisters, let alone my entire family."

"Aoy!" Screamed Captain Ben from high above on the second deck and from behind his wheel, to a heavily armored man on the docks. "Food for the hungry and weary has arrived on the finest vessel in the Narrow Sea." Ben bragged in the common tongue. In truth Arya didn't think this was even the finest ship in harbor, though it still wasn't anywhere near the bottom from what she had seen either.

It was hard to tell from this distance, but the dock man seemed to share Arya's sentiment as he nodded his head to that weakly. "Bring up the hooks." He shouted out and then several dirty looking boys ran up beside him and tied several roped hooks under the pier. After the ship got close enough, all the boys tossed their hooks onto the deck of the Porchard. Several of the crewman rushed to them and locked them to the sides of the boat to pull it into pier.

"How fares thee' war?" Captain Ben asked in a scream as he walked down the upper deck to the lower deck. "Has thee' Dragon King won yet?"

The guardsman shook his head and walked towards the gangplank that was dropped from the Porchard. "Unfortunately not yet. Do you have your ship log?"

Ben chuckled and rubbed the back of his greasy head. "Unfortunately I lost it to the sea during a powerful windstorm that nearly ripped my child in two, I hope it won't matter or trouble you?"

"Is that some kind of jest? Because no ship logs, means that I can't even let you unload or unboard." He sounded very tired and exhausted as he said it, and Arya wondered how many ships he had dealt with today to put him in such a foul mood.

"It was a friendly one at that. Thought I would try to lighten that solemn mood it seems all of you Westerosi possess." His jape hadn't been well received, not that it seemed to mind Ben much as he snatched the ship log from his belt. "Here it is."

Ben then handed the parchment to the pier master. "Damn Braavosi." The man exclaimed under his breath as he paced away. "I'll send some help to unload, but the faster it gets off the faster I can let you all go on your business." Was his subtle way of saying. 'Get lifting and lugging if you wish to leave this pier and visit the taverns anytime before this new moon.'

It had taken much longer to unload the cargo than Arya wished it had. She had even tried to help, but Captain Ben wouldn't have any of it and coerced all the girls into watching him juggle knives to pass the time. When they had finally finished, the sun was beginning to set. For all their hard work the Captain had offered to buy each man a mug of ale and each girl a cup of the finest wine. Before they all went off with the crew to the tavern. Arya and Liane had went to the shared room to retrieve their possessions, as they were the only two who wouldn't be setting sail with them the next fortnight.

The crew had been quite loud and joyous on their walk through Gulltown, excited at the prospect of ale, wine, and woman after nearly a month on board. Arya and Liane had both taken time to look around and study the city. Liane tried not to show it, but Arya knew she was disappointed by what she saw. "It's rather poor compared to the other cities of Westeros, my father always said so at least." That seemed to give Liane a bit of hope. The harbor was packed tight from what Arya saw as they walked down the waterfront looking for a good tavern. Many of the ships looked like they were not for travel or trade either, as she saw a monster of a ship that contained four ballista on each of it's three deck. When she drew near to read it's name, she needed to suppress chuckle as some of it's guards stiffened up.

"Stay back, girl." Warned a halberd wielding guard.

Arya felt Liane pulling at her arm, trying to get her away, but Arya just wanted to look at it and Stranger take them she would. "Do I really look like I could harm it or you?" She asked and they seemed to be at a loss for that question. But it did give her time to read it's name. 'Lord Tywin' seemed to be it's first name, but it was scratched out and under it was written, 'Promise Remembered'. "Who does it sail for?" Arya asked the men who didn't seem to mind her presence anymore at that moment.

"King Aegon Targaryen's master of ships, Aurane Waters." After the man said it, he looked back at the vessel and chuckled out. "But he has company, so run along now. You can get a better look at it tomorrow morn, and if your lucky the Captain might even let you see the ship from on board," The man took a step closer towards them then. "He likes pretty girls, so I'm sure you three will do just fine."

Arya turned on her heels and pulled Liane after her. "Not interested." She said over her shoulder. Liane gave a slight whine, while Elenai just followed with them silently. When they met back up with the crew they were pouring into a tavern. Arya looked to it's signboard which depicted two rats back to back, and under them signed in crude letters read 'The Twin Rat'.

Captain Ben had made good on both of his promises to his crew. It soon turned wild in the tavern when another merchant captain heard of his offer and in return he bought a mug for everyone in the tavern. "I'll never be bested by a Pentoshi." Ben claimed and in response he then bought a skin of wine for everyone there. The inhabitants cried their thanks and sung Ben's name. It didn't take long for the bards and minstrels of Gulltown to find their way to the free wine and start singing. Arya hated to admit it, but it was fun and she had even finished her cup of wine in thanks for Ben's generosity and kindness to her.

"Dance with me, girl." Demanded a drunken tavern goer who stunk of the cheap ale that was flowing through the room.

"I'll pass." Arya told him, but he didn't seem to accept that.

"Don't play hard to get. Come and dance to a tune, and I'll make you scream my name under the moon." His voice was slurred and he almost was falling onto her back as she sat down at her table.

Elenai looked to be rather nervous in this environment and it seemed even worse now that this man was near. "Stop touching me, or I'll split your lip." Arya warned him as she wrapped her hand around the clay mug sitting on the table before her.

That seemed to make it through his thick head, as he released her and stumbled away to another part of the tavern which was already bursting at its seams with fresh people. "How are you so brave?" Elenai asked over the loud laughter and songs being played.

"Because it's too tiring to be a craven." Arya exclaimed in a partial jest. She then looked around the room and saw Liane dancing with Captain Ben in the center of room. She was smiling and laughing as he twirled her around and lifted her into the air. The bards seemed to be competing with each other for who could sing the loudest at that point. Arya thought the fat and balding man could sing louder, but the emaciated flax haired man had a much finer voice. "You should go dance." Arya told the blond girl who was twiddling her fingers together and who still hadn't even touched her wine.

"I don't feel like it." Elenai responded back while staring down at her feet under the table. "I don't really feel like being here right now, do you mind walking me back to the ship?"

Arya could see the sheen coming off of the girl's eyes, and she knew she couldn't just turn her request down. "Sure, I don't have much of a taste for bawdy songs myself anyway." After getting to her feet Elenai followed closely behind her towards the exit with her hands gripping at the back of Arya's tunic so they did not get separated.

It was only after they had forced their way through the thick crowd and out of the doors that Arya noticed Balman had followed them out into the cool sea air and if she had not looked she would never had known he was there. "We don't need you to watch over us." Arya told the old mute, who of course didn't respond and simply stared blankly down at them. Arya wasn't afraid or intimidated by him, though she knew both of the other girls were. "I can protect myself and her you know." She had her needle on her and no one who dared prey on them would know it until it was too late.

"It's fine, it can't harm to have a man with us." Elenai added meekly. "Thank you, Balman." The old mute nodded his head and led them through the streets that were caked in darkness except for the occasional beams of light that shone through the open doors and windows of the houses, taverns, and inns outlining the streets.

When they got back to the Porchard, they waited for Leo Shineboot to wake and drop the gangplank. Someone had to be left behind so no one stole from the ship, and he had drawn the smallest stick. Arya had escorted Elenai to their room and stayed with her until she fell asleep. Arya herself even had thoughts of following her to sleep, but the night was still young and Arya wanted to stretch her legs. After leaving the cabin Arya saw Balman resting against the railing of the ship while he whittled something from a block of white wood. "Do you need something?" She asked the mute who in turn nodded his head. "Well what is it?" He motioned for her to follow him and so she did with minor curiosity.

Balman had led her off the ship and turned towards the market district which was currently closed and its shops and stalls were boarded up for the night. "Where are we going?" She asked though she knew he could not actually tell her in words. The old mute in response pointed up at the tall tower situated on the hill. It was the Gulltower and from this distance Arya could see a carved bird made of stone on top of its spire. "And why are we going there?" He stopped his stride and turned towards her. Balman then tugged at the corners of his mouth with his fingertips and pushed the skin upwards into an exaggerated smile that showed off the rotting teeth of his mouth. "What does that mean?" He then made a cup with his left hand and dunked his right fist into it. "Because of the bread I gave you?" Balman nodded his head and started walking again while Arya half jogged to follow behind him and his wide stride.

There were steps made of wood in the hill that lead up to the Gulltower, which was surrounded by a thin wall of gray stone. It had nearly eight guards that patrolled around it, and each one of them carried a torch and had the three golden wings of house Shett on their shields and chest. "What are we doing now?" She asked as it did not look like those men were willing to let them in without a fight. The mute sailor pointed to the stables which were housed outside of the walls. "What about it? It's just a stable." Balman shook his head and then he grabbed her hand and pointed it to an empty wheelhouse. "It's a wheelhouse, do you want to steal it?" Balman spun her around and pointed to the waterfront, which did give a nice view from high up on the hill. "The harbor." She murmured and he shook her hand fiercer, telling her no. "Water?" Another shake rung through her arm. "Ships?" Again another shake and this time he added his own hand to point. "South?" Then he nodded his head and spun her to the right with all the grace of masterful mummer that Izembaro would have employed in a heartbeat. "And that is east," Balman smiled and released her hand. "What about the east?" 

Balman pointed at the wheelhouse and then with his other hand he pointed to the east. "The wheelhouse is going east," Balman smiled and nodded his lightly stubbled head. "How do you know?" Arya asked him and in response, he lifted his hand up to his mouth like he was drinking ale. "You heard in the tavern?" Again a nod. "Why do you think I need to go east?" A smile rose in his beady eyes and he tapped gently on his ear. It was a plan that was daunting and completely full of inconsistencies, but whoever owned the wheelhouse was going east and likely a lady. Arya knew she needed to follow up on this lead, and it wouldn't hurt to learn who this person was. "Thank you," Arya told the old and gray mute. Balman, reached down into his boot and retrieved a dagger wrapped in a dirty cloth and then he handed it over to her. She took it from him and noted how light it was in her hand and after removing the cloth she saw the distinct rippled patterns on its blade. "This is valyrian steel. Where in the hells did you find valyrian steel?" Balman smirked and put his hand to his heart and bowed his head before her. "You're giving it to me? It was only a bit of brown bread-" He silenced her with his open hand, and then he pointed to the stables and smiled at her. "Thank you, for everything, my friend." The mold smelling Balman gave her one last crooked smile before turning on his heels and walking back down the hill as light as a cat, no doubt back to the Porchard or tavern she guessed.

Arya knew she would need to sleep nearby for the night, just in case the wheelhouse left early in the morn. The stables were quite large and she was sure no one would find her, so she waited for the guards to part and she sprinted for it. To her displeasure the smell of shit was quite evident and awful, but the hay was fresh and new so it would be comfortable to sleep on. She found a big bale to hide behind in the corner of the stables next to a sleeping black palfrey. After settling herself in for the night, she looked over her new blade and admired it's craftsmanship. It was quite sharp and beautiful, it didn't remind her of her father's blade however. Whereas Ice's ripples were darker and they wove upwards like smoke waves would, her dagger's ripples were lighter in shade and they wove to the side like leather stitching. The hilt of the blade was spiked and had vine like ripples that wove around the handle. The pommel was Arya's favorite thing on the blade, it was a darker shade than any of the other metal and almost a dark shade of purple.

The next morn had come far too quickly for her liking however as Arya was sure she had only slept a fourth of the night. While the other time was spent examining her new dagger and spinning around in the itchy straw trying to find a comfortable position to lay in. The guards were still patrolling when she woke, though it looked like different men from last night. She waited until the sun rose higher and the guards began to loosen up and let servants into the yard, to get up and look around. Arya made sure to hide her new dagger in the waistband of her breeches, and she kept her needle high up in her sleeve in case any tried to search her. The guards to her pleasure didn't even seem to notice or care who she was as she passed by them through the small portcullis that lead to the tower. It was quite a scene of relative chaos inside the walls, as the castle's servants and inhabitants scrambled around the yard. It looked like many were leaving soon, and Arya was thankful she slept there that night.

A loud whizzing noise could be heard over all the commotion and soon after Arya heard a girl's whine. "Use your shoulders to pull the bow back. And loosen your grip, you're squeezing so hard it's making you tremble." Arya wandered around the packed yard until she found the cause of the noise, which was a reddish brown haired girl attempting to fire a bow at a target that looked to be six yards away. She pulled back another arrow, and even Arya could tell her stance was all wrong. The arrow loosened, but it didn't travel and instead weakly fluttered a few steps in front of the girl's feet. "That was even worse." Said a brute of man who wore a plate of mail across it chest and a frayed standard that depicted an orle of runes around a mountain.

"I'm trying as hard as I can." Complained the girl as she drew another shaft and lined it with her bow.

The brute of a man shook his head. "No, if you were trying your best you would have already succeeded. You're a Royce of Runestone, you can fire a bloody shaft of wood at a circle."

The girl nodded her head and closed her eyes in determination, trying to take the man's words to heart. After opening her eyes she pulled back on the bow, though her arms were shaking and billowing like a branch in the wind. She released the shaft of wood and it flew nearly a yard over the target and bounced off the stone wall behind it. "It's too hard to pull. Can't you loosen it again?"

"No, I can't. It won't be able to travel that distance if I loosen it's pull anymore. You just need to use your strength and pull back hard." He reached down and put in a arrow against the string for her. "Now come on Lyarra, just imagine the target and then imagine the shaft sticking out of it." The girl attempted another shot which landed closer to the target, but still missed it and stuck into the wall. "Damn it girl. Your brothers were making that shot before they could even ride a horse."

Lyarra hung her head low, and responded back solemnly. "I'm hopeless, can't you just teach me to shoot a crossbow? That is easy to aim and fire."

"A crossbow?" The man laughed out heartily. "It would be good for one shot, thats true. But if you struggle to pull a bowstring back, a crossbow's string would cut those pretty little fingers of yours off when you tried to reload it." The man reached down and grabbed another shaft. "Now keep trying, your father will have my head if you can't fire over a damned six yard area."

"Why do I have to learn this? I'm sure I could outride him on any horse he chose. Even you can't say that I'm not a better rider than Andar or even Robar ever was." The girl bragged as she brushed one of her twin reddish braids over her shoulder.

The man chuckled and handed her another arrow that was in his hand. "I'm sure you could, but your father didn't speak about riding horses in his letter. So until he says otherwise, we are going to assume he cares not for horsemanship or racing."

"Is he as handsome as everyone says he is?" Lyarra asked as she drew back the arrow. Arya couldn't help, but notice how the flat lilac slippers she wore sunk deep into the mud when she pushed down, which threw her off her stance.

"I don't know, M'lady. Just keep your mind focused on the task at hand. There will be girls from all over Westeros at the wedding, and all will be vying for his attention. It's my job to make sure you stand out from all of them." He exclaimed gently while he watched the girl struggle to hold and aim.

After another greatly missed shot, the man teaching her looked ready to toss himself off the Gulltower. "You should wear some better shoes." Arya advised without her Braavosi accent, and Lyarra jumped in shock when she noticed Arya was watching her.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with them?" Lyarra asked as she looked down at her feet. The color was mostly hidden now and was replaced with brown mud and dirt.

Arya walked closer and noticed how tense the brute got when she did. "They don't give you any support, and you are off balance when you shoot." Arya pulled at the leg of her pant and showed Lyarra the brown boots she wore. "You should wear these if you're gonna learn to shoot, just like when you ride you wear boots not those frilly things." And frilly they were. Arya couldn't tell from the distance, but they looked to be made of Lyseni silk and lace. While ringlets of white silk tied to the heels wrapped up the girls legs and to the top of her knees.

"She's right." The bigger man admitted. "Girl, give her your boots." He commanded Arya.

Arya looked up at the man like he was touched and shook her head. "These are mine, I bought them with my own coin."

He looked to be slightly annoyed after she said it, but in response he reached into his back pocket and retrieved five stags. "Here, now take off the boots."

After taking the coins from the man, Arya still shook her head. "They cost more than this, these are made with good craftsmanship. It will take you at least fifty silver."

Lyarra let loose a small chuckle as the man grumbled and pulled out his purse to count the coin. "Bloody leech you are, girl. If i was a lesser man I would have just taken them off your damn feet myself." He then pulled out a handful of coins and handed them over to her. "Here fifty stags, now give her the damn boots."

They didn't cost anywhere near that amount, Arya had purchased them with a fraction of a single gold dragon before she left Braavos. But she did like them and they were of good make and kept her warm even during the windy nights on board the Porchard. "Here." She exclaimed as she handed them over to Lyarra, who had already slipped off her frilly footwear. The boots looked to be snug on the girl's feet though it was still gave her a major improvement in her stance. "If your arms aren't strong enough to pull the bow back, then use the strength in your back."

Lyarra seemed to listen well, as when she shot she scratched the edge of the target with her next arrow. "I almost got it! Did you see that, Ser Sam!" She exclaimed in a joy.

"Aye, it was much better, but keep practicing." The man called Sam told her just as he handed her another arrow. His brown eyes then went to Arya and he studied her. "How do you know how to shoot an arrow? You a poacher of sorts?"

Arya drew her eyes from Lyarra's practicing and turned to look up at the man. "No, I've never poached, Ser."

"Oh, then tell me how you knew about pulling with your back?" His gaze seemed to pierce Arya's soul, and she knew just by how he held himself that he had served in many wars and had killed even more men.

Arya didn't have to think hard or long though, before a convenient lie came to mind. "My father was a household knight in service to House Smallwood, I was his only child so he only had me to pass on his lessons."

Ser Sam didn't seem to believe her as his eyes twinged in amusement. "What is the Smallwood sigil?"

"Six acorns on a field of yellow. I never liked yellow, but my father always made me wear the stupid color to impress the Lady Smallwood." Arya still held memories of Lady Ravella Smallwood forcing her to wear stupid and tight dresses that made her feel like a tree, and of how Gendry teased her about them.

"Then why are you all the way in Gulltown? Is he here with you?" Sam asked, and Arya could feel Lyarra's gaze watching her and Arya was sure she was listening closely.

Arya did her best to put on a sad and broken face. She looked down at her bare feet sinking into the mud when she answered. "He died, during ... the Red Wedding at the Twins. So after that I was kicked off of our allotted land by the servants and help. I took all that I could carry and sold what I couldn't, and decided I'd try to travel north and find my mother." 

"Your mother some noblewoman or something?" Sam asked in a more tender and gentle voice, which told Arya he was feeling sympathy for her.

Arya shook her head gently. "I'm a bastard. Arya Rivers, he said my mother named me before he took me from her." After she said it, Arya hunched her shoulders over in such a way that the shadows cascaded over her eyes.

The brute of a man leaned down and gently patted her shoulder. "Don't sulk little one, I'm a bastard myself and it never bothered or stopped me in life. I worked hard and rose to be the master at arms for the Royces of Runestone. And I count their Lord Royce to be my best of friends."

Lyarra had her bow hung at her side for a while now, and asked Arya. "Have you found a way north?"

"None of the ships are going that direction. From what I heard, all are going south to fight against the Lannisters." Sam told Lyarra. While Arya still held her head down and pretended to sulk while in truth she listened to his words intently.

"What are you gonna do?" Lyarra asked Arya in a concerned voice.

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "I have plenty of coin, so maybe I'll just wait until the end of the war. Or maybe I'll find a trade convoy travelling north." She spoke in her best despondent tone, and forced a tear to fall from her eye before wiping it away.

Arya looked at both Sam Stone and Lyarra from the corner of her eyes and noticed a smile break on Lyarra's face though no words were exchanged with the master at arms. "We're setting out for Riverrun this day. I'll offer you a deal, beat Lyarra's shot and I'll let you travel with us. You can help her with her bow skills and be her handmaiden. I'm sure you'll be able to find someone going to the North there."

"Are you sure?" Arya asked in surprise as even she didn't think they would take quite that much pity on her and her story. "I don't want to be a bother."

Lyarra came close and grabbed both of Arya's hands to reaffirm her point. "You won't be, I need someone my own age to talk to on the road. My only other company is my septa, and she is as old as my father. And my other handmaidens were all in their grey period when I was still a babe at the breast."

Sam took the bow from Lyarra's hands and gave it to Arya. "But that is only if you can best her next shot."

Arya nodded and took her stance in the same position where Lyarra had stood. She drew the arrow to the string and looked at the target, it was a simple and easy shot that Arya could make in her sleep. "Is that good enough?" Arya asked after her arrow wedged into the near center of the target.

Sam Stone smirked and nodded at her. "It will do. We are setting out as soon as the men load Lyarra's things back in the wheelhouse. Do you need to go collect your things? I can send someone with you if you need help."

Arya shook her head. "I traveled light, so I can get it all myself." Without another word Arya turned and bounded away towards the gate and out of the walls. When she turned to the stable she noticed that the horses had already been hooked up to the wheelhouse and several thick men were struggling to lift a big trunk up it's steps. No one paid her any mind when she walked into the stable and found her rucksack with her possessions. She only had three light tunics, one was white, one was a dark grey, and the last one which she was wearing was a light brown. Arya had only one pair of breeches and those were her only real clothes. Besides one dress that she had worn when she worked at the Bright Star inn, which was a dark shade of red lace that looked more maroon. She also counted her money to be sure all of it was still accounted for and it was.

After throwing it over her back she returned out of the stables. Arya saw and heard Lyarra who was followed group of older woman that conversed amongst themselves while they passed under the gates. True to her word, it did look like Lyarra only had a company of bickering woman around her. "I have my things, my lady." Arya exclaimed as she stopped in front of the group.

"Is this the mess you told us about?" Asked a short and squat woman who resembled a gull herself.

A much fatter woman with a receding hairline walked close to Arya and caught a few locks of her hair between her fat fingers. "This won't do at all, her hair looks like it was sheared with a dinner knife. And she's doesn't even wear a dress." The woman complained loudly, and Arya felt a strong distaste for all of the old crones already.

It took several more long minutes that Arya felt were days, where they argued over what color would suit her best and what to do with her shoulder length and especially dirty brown hair. Thankfully Lyarra had spoken on her behalf not too long after. As Arya herself knew she had to sit and grind her teeth, lest she risk getting dismissed from Lyarra's service already. "I would like some time alone to speak with my new handmaiden." Was the last thing Lyarra said before slamming the door shut to the wheelhouse which left Arya and herself alone. It had been much more spacious than Arya thought it was from the outside, as it contained a full sized feather bed, a tub for baths, a chamber pot, several shelves that contained books, and nearly a dozen trunks.

It had only been slightly uncomfortable how welcoming and open Lyarra was with Arya already, but it didn't bother her too much. She had told Arya of her family and of how her brother Robar Royce was killed by Loras Tyrell, and of how her oldest brother was back in Runestone, and of how jealous her pregnant older sister was that she was married to a fourth son while Lyarra herself would be courted by a King. And by the time that was over Arya felt the wheelhouse start to move.

Ser Samwell Stone had popped in a few times to make sure everything was alright when he heard the laughter of Lyarra and the polite giggles Arya forced out. But Lyarra would always tell him that they talked of boys and he would nod and bow before returning to the second seat of the wheelhouse. Lyarra's septa and her old handmaidens had ridden in an open topped carriage for the ride, and Lyarra warned Arya that they were no doubt making her several new dresses along with finishing Lyarra's own dress for the wedding. It was apparently some design of orange silk chased with red lace along with a black corset that was made to accentuate Lyarra's breasts.

But what Arya really wanted to know about was about the war, and unfortunately it didn't seem as if Lyarra cared too much to know any details about it. All Arya could get out of Lyarra was several stories bolstered with obvious falsehoods and impossibilities. According to Lyarra, King Aegon Targaryen had broken through the Bloody Gate and marched all the way up the snow covered mountains to the Eyrie to slay Petyr Baelish and save the Vale. She also talked of how when Aegon and Lyn Corbray fought, the sky and mountains shook and rattled from the conflict of their two valyrian blades meeting. It was obvious that Lyarra was deeply infatuated with the stories of him, and it made Arya giddy for the moment when Lyarra learned that stories are just falsities and fantasies.

"So who's wedding are you attending?" Arya asked after a while of silence between the woman, where Lyarra simply sat on her bed and knit a needlepoint of a red dragon orled with the runes of house Royce.

Lyarra looked up from her work wistfully and smiled brightly at Arya. "My father's liege lord Harry Hardyng, though I suppose it's Arryn now that he's to be the Lord of the Vale."

The name Harrold Hardyng wasn't one Arya was familiar with, but she remembered that her cousin Robert Arryn was the Lord of the Vale. "And who is he marrying?"

"That is the sweetest part, they apparently met while she was under some false identity. And then they fell in love even though she was of much lower birth than him, but come to find out she was the higher born one of the two. I've even heard the King himself has written a song for them, isn't that exciting?"

Arya didn't think it was, because most of it sounded like a lie too. "That sounds wonderful," She exclaimed in her best voice that she used to charm people. "But you didn't tell me, who is Harrold Arryn marrying?"

"Oh I didn't, I must have got so excited I forgot." Lyarra let out another giggle that Arya was forced to share with her. "He's marrying Sansa Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment telling me so. And if you had problems with this chapter tell me or I'll never know how to improve.
> 
> Off topic, but one of my buddies was under the impression that Aegon knew about what Petyr was gonna due to Sansa when he visited them in the Vale. So I thought I'd clarify that he had no idea that Petyr would sexually abuse her, if he knew that he wouldn't have left her.
> 
> And thank you to all those who have left me kudos in the past, it is rather fun watching those numbers climb every time I put up a new chapter. Now I hope you'll excuse me as I have a wedding to plan. :p


	38. The Heir's Tournament

Tyrion:

 

It was rather amusing to watch, Tyrion thought as he watched Edric trying to fight Aegon. "Stand your ground, and don't let him scare you with those fancy movements." Tyrion advised as Edric suffered a falter in his step while Aegon spun his blade from hand to hand. "He's left handed, so attack when he switches." When Edric had bragged that he could take Aegon in the training grounds, Tyrion never thought Aegon would call him out on it. When the other squires heard that the King would be in the training square, the word spread quickly and much faster than Tyrion hoped it would.

Edric tried to follow Tyrion's advice, but still he hesitated as when he attacked Aegon effortlessly sidestepped him. "Stop being such a craven and charge him." The Blackfish demanded as he closely watched and studied the coal haired boy and his reckless technique.

After another stab attempt Aegon spun from the way and tripped Edric which sent him crashing into the dirt. "Try again." Aegon told Edric as the Baratheon climbed back to his feet with renewed vigor. Edric attempted an overhand slash, which was so obvious he should have just screamed it. "Get angry and use it." Aegon then locked blades with Edric and he seemed to be struggling under Edric's surprising strength, but all too soon after that Aegon had flipped him over using Edric's own body strength.

A coo rang out from some distinctly feminine voices when Aegon smiled at the assembled group of what looked to be forty people who outlined the training square. "Ed, he's making a fool of you in front of everyone." The Blackfish seemed to be getting more frustrated as the fight went on. Tyrion did not know if it was because it disappointed him to watch Edric lose, or if it was because it reflected poorly on his training. The sweat that poured off of Edric seemed to stick the dirt to his face and it looked caked on to Tyrion. Which did give him a slight chuckle because Edric still held a defiant and determined face, despite how foolish he looked.

"One more try, and then I'm afraid our King has business to attend to." Tyrion informed Edric, who nodded his confirmation and lifted his sword again for his final strike.

Aegon did not seem worried as he relaxed his sword at his side. Edric attempted a feint that he followed up with a quick side slash. Unfortunately Aegon hopped back out of his range and after the blade swung by, he stepped closer and grabbed Edric by the wrist to stop him. "You're getting better," Aegon then released his arm and tossed his blunted sword to another squire who was watching. "Keep practicing." Without another word to the boy, Aegon spun on his heels and the crowd parted before him.

Tyrion himself was forced to push his way through the crowd to make his way back to Aegon's side. "Satisfied?" Tyrion asked the silver haired man when they stopped before an opened barrel of fresh river water.

"Sometimes boys need a hard knock on the head to show them what is what." Aegon then dunked his face in the clear water and scrubbed away any dirt and grime on him. "Do you disapprove?"

"No," Tyrion turned to see if any were watching, which they were to his displeasure. "But I don't think it is proper for them to see their King sparring against squires in the mud." He was quiet, but Tyrion did catch the snicker that left Aegon's lips. "We still need to get to the melee grounds, you did tell Harrold you would appear."

"Aye, and I will." Aegon exclaimed after he pulled his head from the water. Tyrion wondered briefly if he did it on purpose to charm the women watching, or if it was innocent when Aegon flipped his silver locks over his head and slicked them back. "I'm paying the ransom to the winner, so of course I'll be there."

A fortnight past when Harrold and Aegon had both supped together and the 'Heir' let loose how much he enjoyed melees. So while Harrold still could not fight or ride horse, Aegon offered to host one outside of Riverrun as an early wedding gift. The reward was a modest amount of gold, but in truth most came because they knew Aegon would be watching closely. Some wanted glory, some wanted favors, and others wanted a chance to impress Aegon enough for a chance in his Kingsguard. Aegon had ridden out a time ago with most the army, the bulk of which was currently camped at Harrenhal, but Aegon and the Blackfish both returned days before for the wedding and the army was left in the joint control of Yohn Royce and the Boulderfist Brune.

Tyrion was thoroughly pleased with the coming wedding, most preparations were finished and the only thing that remained was the desserts. It was more lavish than her first wedding, and he was happy that Sansa was getting something she deserved for all she had been through. Though he did think she could have been more grateful to both Aegon and himself, as Tyrion organized it while Aegon took all costs onto himself. Sansa however did not know all that, or at least he hoped she would not be so rude if she did know the truth. Tyrion had made the suggestion to her of Aegon giving her away at the wedding, due to the lack of a male family member. Barring Jon Stark of course, who he knew would be hung if he stepped foot anywhere in the Riverlands by Mother Merciless herself. But alas Sansa denied even the idea of it, and as such Aegon had brought the Blackfish back with him to give her away, which Sansa was much happier with.

It had only taken them a few minutes to walk to the two stands that had been built around a rectangular groove made for the melee. Most of the crowd from earlier followed after them however, and they listened closely to everything that was said, so he simply made small talk with Aegon on the walk. From the noises coming from the stands Tyrion knew that the melee most have already started. His assumption was proven correct as the first fight came into view. A Mallister knight swung a two handed greatsword against a sword and shield bearing hedge knight in service to house Hunter.

"Festivities started early." Aegon murmured while they climbed up to the steps to his personal box that gave a full view of the entire field below. As Tyrion took his own seat beside Aegon, he looked across the field to the opposite stands at Harrold and Sansa who sat hand in hand wearing bright smiles. Though in truth Sansa's smile looked like it was only for Harrold, while Harrold's own looked to be aimed down at the fighting below. He knew he was staring too long when Aegon's voice picked up and almost read his mind. "They both look happy."

"They do, but why shouldn't they? Their wedding is in four days."

"I heard they were saying their vows in front of the heart tree on the next morn." Aegon said just as a loud ringing of steel and a cry of surrender filled the area out.

Tyrion had heard the same, though the plan was still in place for the large ceremony to be held in a sept. It was to be a private ceremony in the godswood and very few besides close family to either were even to be let near. Some Waynwoods, Mother Merciless, the Blackfish Tully, the Blackwoods, and some of the Mallisters. Tyrion himself had received an invitation from Harrold, but he turned it down and used an excuse of work that needed to be done. "Are you going?"

Aegon gently shook his head as he watched the Hunter's hedge knight being dragged off the field. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

 _Of course you wouldn't._ Tyrion thought to himself as he watched at Aegon's soft eyes light up as the crowd took notice of him and cheered his name. Tyrion could not help, but feel they would cheer louder for him than any of the competitors today. Especially while they feasted on his food and were protected by his soldiers. He did feel it would have been better if they acknowledged Harrold in their chanting. The melee was being held in his honor, the look on Sansa's face reaffirmed that observation.

"Ser Brynden of house Blackwood!" Screamed the Herald who did his best to raise his voice to reach over the still roaring crowd. A black haired man dressed in grey plate mail with the dead weirwood of house Blackwood on his chest stepped forward and was armed with a bardiche. After he gave a small and polite nod to the Harrold and then Aegon, he donned his greathelm which was adorned with outstretched raven wings of black steel.

"Have you talked with, Lady Stark?" Tyrion asked and he had to fight the urge to call her by what she was.

The Herald screamed out again just as loud as before, even though the crowd had already quieted down at that point. "Ser Matthos of house Belmore!" On cue, a thick and burly red headed man with a drooping mustache walked into the fighting square. After respectfully bowing to his Lord and then his King, Ser Matthos closed the visor to his simple iron helmet and lifted his spiked club.

Aegon waited for the sounds of the fight to start before he responded back. "Aye, it was interesting." Tyrion did not doubt it was. The Mother Without Any Mercy could hardly speak without covering her throat and even then she did not speak often. While Aegon could speak just fine, he himself nearly always needed to be dragged kicking and screaming into real meaningful conversations. He waited a short time for Aegon to elaborate and when he did not do so, Tyrion cleared his throat to urge him on. "We talked about the wedding," Aegon murmured and that left him with a humorous image that he would surely remember the next time he saw her frightening visage. "And after that I told her about Jon Stark."

Tyrion choked on his wine and sputtered it through his nostril holes. Aegon simply gave him one offhanded glance before continuing to watch the fight, or just pretend to. "And what did she say?" He asked as he wiped his face off with a silken cloth of gold.

"First she tried to correct me," Aegon's voice then lowered to a throaty whisper that sounded like Catelyn's voice. "His name is Jon Snow. Not Stark, never Stark. He was my husband's bastard and my greatest shame." Aegon coughed and his voice returned to his smooth tone. "So then I told her of how he had been legitimized by Stannis Baratheon, and that for now he is the ruling Lord of the North and Winterfell both."

"I would wager my cock, that did not make her happy." Tyrion jested and it served to bring a shade of a smile on Aegon's lips.

"It did not." Aegon's eyes opened wide and Tyrion heard a cry of pain from below them. Ser Brynden's bardiche was wedged deep into Ser Belmore's thigh and his red blood sprayed out of the wound like a punctured cask of ale. "And people used to ask me why I never entered tournaments or melees."

"Because Marwyn would have drugged you the night before with sweetsleep if you ever tried." He had already heard the stories of how others called Aegon a craven as a child when he would never spar or joust with them.

Aegon eyes followed Ser Matthos as he was dragged off the fighting square to be tended to by a maester. "And because one slip of a lance or one unlucky fall and I'd be done. If I was good at it, it would have presented another issue of too much exposure, people may have asked too many questions that I couldn't answer." 

The heir of house Blackwood pulled his helmet off and dropped to a knee while facing up at Aegon, which Tyrion was sure Sansa loved to see, especially after he proclaimed the victory was in Aegon's name. It was an act that he knew would be followed by all who came after him in the lists, as none wanted to appear less loyal than the other before their King. It took another sip of wine, but he did find his courage to look across the gap to Sansa's mountain of nobles and peasants. Sansa's face spoke only of rather placid acceptance, though he knew that Sansa had learned how to hide her true feelings now.  _It simply is who and what she is now, that naive and innocent girl in King's Landing is not this woman. I suppose we have all been forced to change with the times, I'm not even the same man I used to be myself._ He told himself just as a presence made itself known behind them, panting all the while.

As Aegon turned to look at the man, his look of grief fell and was replaced by surprise. "What is it, Lord Piper?"

The short, rotund, and bowlegged man huffed and puffed as he pressed down on his knees for support. "I-I have you read the brackets for the day?" Before either Tyrion or Aegon could question him. Lord Clement Piper dropped to his knees with a loud thud that Tyrion wagered had bruised him or worse. "Your Grace."

Tyrion felt the need to laugh at the man and Aegon's own eyes said that he felt the same, but his voice was still ever calm. "Catch your breath, my Lord. I'm sure whatever it is can wait."

Lord Piper shook his head fiercely and remained on his knees to catch his breath. "But it can't, you-or-we need to act before this turns very ugly."

"What are you speaking of, Lord Clement?" Tyrion asked, and when the fat man continued to huff he tossed his wine skin to him.

To his displeasure it looked as if the Lord Piper had finished all of it before he pulled the opening from his thick and chapped lips. "The melee brackets are all wrong. We need to act before anything can come of it!" The Lord Piper reached to his side where a sword would hang if not for Aegon's guards and opened his satchel to retrieve a rough sheet of yellowish parchment. "The second bracket of the day would pit Ser Brynden Blackwood against Ser Robert Bracken, if Robert wins his first encounter that is."

Aegon's face twitched in anger, but not so much as Tyrion whose anger went far beyond his face. "What in bloody hells were you thinking when you arranged the brackets? You should have arranged them on complete opposite sides!" Not only did this cause several very large and very dangerous problems, it also made Tyrion feel the fool for allowing Lord Piper to lead the Riverlands.

"I didn't organize the brackets, Lord Tyrion, I swear. Lord Arryn wanted to set them himself." Lord Piper exclaimed in fear of Aegon and Tyrion and for his new found position.

Without a word uttered, Aegon stood from his seat and swept from the box in a flash of silver and red silk down the stairs. Tyrion did not know what he meant to do, but he would need to do something and soon. "And you didn't even look at his work before you passed it on to the Herald? What kind of blundering fool are you?" Tyrion did not give him a chance to answer before snatching his wineskin back which unfortunately was empty as he feared it would be.

"I'm so very sorry, my Lord. I see my trust was misplaced in the young Lord Arryn. Boys of that age just can't be trusted to do more than swing swords it seems." Lord Clement exclaimed without thought of the fact that he had insulted his King, as Aegon and Harrold were both eight and ten,

Tyrion could not voice his true disgust for Lord Piper at the moment and for how he attempted to pass the blame that he shared equally in with Harrold. "Mayhaps if you did the job your King asked of you, then Lord Arryn wouldn't have had this chance to blunder." Tyrion walked back to his seat overlooking the melee, but his vision was drawn to the sandy haired Harrold. His face lit up in laughter and excitement while watching a Pyne knight dismantle a man from house Ryger down below, while Sansa held his hand with a bright smile focused solely on him.  _How bloody dull is he? Could he have not remembered or even realized how fierce of feud those two houses have for one another? That would be just what we needed is another war between them, if one of their own died in this melee._

"What will you do?" Clement asked after he finally gathered enough strength to lift himself back up to his two feet.

Tyrion spun back around in his chair and tossed his empty skin at Lord Clement and the man flinched as if he had struck him with a battleaxe, which had annoyed Tyrion further. "Get out of my sight. And while you're at it, go make yourself useful by filling my skin that you so rudely finished."

Lord Clement made a stutter then and he paused again as his voice cracked. "This whole fiasco will not endanger my position will it?"

"The longer you stay here, I can assure you it will!" Tyrion screamed at the man in anger which seemed to put the pep in Clement's step as he stumbled over his stubby legs to descend down the stairs. "And be sure you don't come back unless that skin is full." After turning back to the melee down below he looked for any signs of Aegon.

After two more battles which resulted in wins for house Royce and house Keath, Tyrion spotted a man wearing the Swann crest stop behind Lord Tytos Blackwood. The man whispered several words to the Lord Blackwood and soon after he left. Tyrion watched another match which gave a unimpressive win to house Smallwood. Lord Tytos then whispered something to his dainty daughter Bethany, and after kissing her forehead he stood and excused himself from the stands.

As more and more of the fights went on, Tyrion felt a rock settling in his gut. The rock soon turned to a boulder however when Ser Robert Bracken defeated his foe and moved up the bracket all while Tyrion cursed both Harrold and Clement. It had been during the melee that preceded Ser Brynden's and Ser Robert's when Tyrion spotted Lord Blackwood speaking to his son. The more they talked, the angrier Ser Brynden looked, but in the end he hung his head and his father set back off towards the stands. The heir of Raventree Hall tossed his helmet into the dirt in anger while his squire quickly rushed over to retrieve it, but the Blackwood himself found his way over to the side of the herald and spoke some quick words with him.

When the time came for the next match the Herald spoke up for all to hear. "Ser Brynden Blackwood has withdrawn from the melee. As such, Ser Robert Bracken is declared you winner and will move on!" After he said it, all the peasants and even some of the nobility in the stands expressed their displeasure with a rain of 'craven' and many jeers were all aimed at poor Blackwood man. Tyrion felt he must have been commanded by his father to throw the fight, and if he did then he did something not many men could or would do because of their pride. He made a mental note of the man however, and he would be sure to find some way to reward him regardless of whatever Aegon must have promised Lord Blackwood.

Tyrion had waited and watched Harrold's box for someone to come and collect him, but alas that never came to pass and it was nearly five fights later when he realized Aegon would not be returning. White the competition had just started to get fiercer, he no longer had the appetite while Harrold's laughter bellowed and it no longer was fun to be alone. After climbing down the steps from the box, Tyrion was pleased to see that Aegon had the presence of mind at the time to leave several guards around to keep the rabble away as they were begging. Though they did seem a tad disappointed when they saw it was him and not the King, because several left soon after seeing him. "Are you ready to leave, Lord Tyrion?" Asked Gerold Storm, the captain of Aegon's temporary Swannguard. The man wore a white enameled helmet with the beak of goose that served as it's faceguard and it never seemed to lose it's humor whenever Tyrion looked upon it.

"Aye, I am. Did the King tell you where he was going?"

Gerold shook his head while the beak flapped up and down. "No, he took half of the guard and left the other half with you." Gerold kneeled down to Tyrion's height and whispered. "His Grace seemed very angry when he left." The Captain then stood back up and exclaimed in his usual authoritative tone. "Where would you like to go, Lord Lannister?"

Tyrion wondered that himself. _Where should I go?_ "I suppose we should head back for Riverrun. Just to be sure the wedding preparations are still going smoothly."

Gerold banged his chest with his fist and all of the Swannguard stood to attention. "Form up." He commanded the men who stood to attention and formed their circle around Tyrion. It took them several minutes to reach Riverrun and when they did he was pleased to see Edric still practicing under the Blackfish's watchful eye. After making his way inside of the triangular castle and bidding farewell to the Swannguards, he turned towards Aegon's chambers. The castle was much louder than it had been in recent memory as it seemed like every hall had nearly twenty people in it that were either servants, household guards, or guests to the wedding. Many daughters of Lords and Sers had also flocked to the castle, and Tyrion guessed they all hoped to seduce Aegon and he knew they would all go home fruitless in that endeavor.

He climbed up the winding staircase to Aegon's solar, which was only bested in opulence by the Lord's room and then by the Lady's room which was to be occupied by Sansa. He was not sure, but he thought it must have been Edmure's room at one point before it was given to Aegon. The door was of a hardwood that seemingly was an expensive wood for how deep and rich the brown was. Embedded within the wood, was golden fish that shone bright as if recently polished and they seemed to swim along the current like veins of the wood. As he reached out to knock on the door, several low voices could be heard from within the room that gave him pause. It was small and quiet and he had to press his ear to the door to just understand them. "It calls for me in the night ... like a babe would."

This next voice was deeper than the one before it. "You must block it out and focus on the tasks at hand. Don't stray because of that."

"That's easy to say when your mind is always your own. But I saw the dragon bend to the flock of brown and grey. We both know what that means. A King you will be and-" The voice was louder and hurried, and he knew it was Aegon's.

Tyrion then knew the other voice had to belong to Marwyn. He wanted to knock and let his presence be known, but his arm would not move. "When the walls meet the heavens above, `and when the lightning splits the seas. You Aegon Targaryen will either be the first light of the dawn ... or you will be the last light before the night. Through the wind, comes the cold, and the storm comes before the flood. You will either be the hero that men worship, or you will be the promise of what should have been, it will be her who decides." The voice however was not Marwyn's or Aegon's it was a distinctly female voice that spoke of exotic lands.

It felt like a footsteps behind him, but when Tyrion turned to see the cause he saw nothing behind him. When he looked around he felt like he had drank far too much wine as the stairs he had climbed earlier looked to be thousands of feet up. "That it is not for us to speak of, the witch of flowers told you this already. But alas for it seems we cannot speak any longer for now, as a cat has come before us." This was a fourth voice and Tyrion wondered just how many people were in there and who they were.

When he said it, that seemed to cause a panic in the room as the sound of footsteps rang out. "Until next time." Marwyn whispered along with something after that Tyrion could not understand in a foreign language.

Tyrion then pulled his face off the door and waited a few moments before knocking on the door. "It's Tyrion, are you in there?" He asked as he stared at the dull golden fish that looked to be hundreds of years old.

It took a few seconds before the door came swinging open, but when it did Marwyn stood before him with a strange smirk. "Come in, Tyrion. I was just preparing Aegon." As Tyrion walked into the chambers he spotted Aegon sitting in a straight backed wooden chair with a pitcher of water next to him on table. He looked around the room, but did not see anyone else there besides Marwyn and Aegon, though the Targaryen did have a red tinged bandage wrapped around his palm.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Tyrion asked as he paced over to Aegon's side and looked at his bleeding and bandaged hand. "I wondered where you went?"

Aegon rotated his hand and looked down at the wound without much care. "I'm fine, just cut myself on that blasted and gaudy candle of Marwyn's." Tyrion knew just the one he was talking about, it was a twisted and strange statue of obsidian with many jagged and sharp edges. When Aegon pointed to something on the far side of the room, Tyrion did not expect to see it in the room with them and with Aegon's red blood still dripping off it and pooling in a concave indent. "Did you not enjoy the melee?"

"I rather lost my taste for it after the whole debacle with the Blackwoods and Brackens. But it sorted itself in the end, I'm guessing you were the reason for that." Tyrion found his way to Aegon's featherbed and sat down on it while Marwyn returned to the King's side with a knife and set of clippers.

The Archmaester pulled Aegon's head back and reached into the pitcher of water and retrieved a soaked cloth. The Archmaester ran the wet rag through Aegon's silver hair and pulled it back over his ears. "I had a conversation with Lord Blackwood about it. I assume he handled the rest?" Marwyn then took the clippers to the ends of Aegon's silver locks and Tyrion watched as they fluttered down to the stone floor.

"Aye, his son forfeited after his father shared some words with him. The mob did not seem very happy with all the barbs they threw his way though." Aegon's eyes seemed to shimmer as he looked up at the high ceiling. "What are you doing?" Tyrion asked while Marwyn tidied up Aegon's long hair, because he could not help but notice Aegon's tanned travel cloak was resting beside him on the bed.

Marwyn finished clipping Aegon's hair and threw the clippers into the pitcher of water. "We have some questions that need answers ... or I suppose Egg does."

"And what does that mean?"

"I'm going north to the Oldstones." Aegon answered with all the flatness of if he had just told Tyrion what supper was. "I'll be back the day before the wedding. It's not like I have anything to do in the mean time besides twiddle my thumbs."

Tyrion couldn't believe the lunacy Aegon spoke, and even more so that Marwyn seemed to be fine with it. "Don't you think you should be here to show your Lords that you are their King? We are at war right now, and they need every inspirational sight to keep them happy and it just so happens that you are the most prolific sight we have at the moment."

"I thought that was why we were hosting a wedding?" Marwyn japed as he trimmed several loose strands of silver on Aegon's head.

"Do you know how many Lords sent their daughters here to meet you? It would be rude to not meet them." He ignored Marwyn's jest which the Archmaester found much humor in as he bellowed out in laughter. After he finished removing some more loose strands of hair he let Aegon get up from the chair.

"Are you sure you're trying to make me stay?" Aegon chuckled out as he ran his hands through his soaked and slicked back hair. "I've had just about enough of those supposed noble virgins, for awhile at the very least. Jayne Bracken tried luring me into her bed the night before, and Lady Waynwood's granddaughter Falyse wanted me to see her palfrey in the stables, just the two of us of course." He complained as if it was the most horrible experience a man could suffer Tyrion thought. Though soon after his thoughts drifted to Jayne's impressive bosom and False's round backside.

"Well naturally, and I seem to remember Mellissa Blanetree offering to sing you a song she wrote for you." Tyrion jested and Aegon's face paled before he pulled away towards a hook on the wall that held his sword belt along with Dark Sister.

After strapping it to his hip, Aegon stepped past Tyrion and picked up his rough looking cloak from the bed that looked like something a sellsword like Bronn would wear and not a King. "I'm sure you can keep the castle under control for a few days. And I'm sure Sansa will be happy to have me gone, so there is that too." Aegon exclaimed with a sarcastic smirk.

"She doesn't hate you." He assured Aegon as she was only mad that he injured her soon to be husband. He was sure that it would blow over and be forgotten when Harrold had healed fully.

"No? Then I wonder what you call it?" Aegon threw the cloak over his shoulders and tightened it in a rush. "I spared her damn fool of a lover, you think she would have been grateful. She plays the charming and polite noblewoman on the surface, but it isn't too hard to tell how she sours and stiffens whenever I draw near or open my mouth. You'd think I was Joffrey with how I'm recieved, I forgave and forgot her family's part in my mother's and sister's death, simply because of how widespread it was of Eddard Stark's disapproval. I brought her brother's bones back from the Twins and I gave her a safe place to be with her mother and yet I'm cursed." Aegon spun around towards the door with his thick cloak behind him. Tyrion wanted to speak out against his misplaced fears, but no one could give sense to Aegon when he was like this. Not even Marwyn could succeed in that matter.

"I suppose we'll see you in a few days then." Marwyn exclaimed before he took his leave of the room after Aegon who had already stormed out. "Oh yes, Lady Stark and her followers brought back some hostages they had captured." Marwyn added as he poked his head back in the room.

Tyrion did not know what Marwyn was trying to imply with his shade of a smile. "So? Are they anyone important?" He asked as he hopped off the bed and walked closer to the obsidian candle for a closer look at it.

"I'd be careful around that, Lord Tyrion. You might cut yourself." Tyrion heeded his warning as the jagged spikes did look razor edged. However the oddest thing was how it seemed to radiate heat, which was impossible as there was no wax or wick to burn, just black obsidian and blood. "I heard there was a boy, black of hair and seemingly feeble of mind. I believe he said his name was Podrick Payne. I suppose they will just kill him or banish him unless he proves useful. Or unless someone speaks out on his behalf that is." Without another word Marwyn set off down the stairs. Leaving Tyrion by himself in the room in a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment telling me so. And if you had problems with this chapter tell me or I'll never know how to improve.  
> Been thinking I should try to write up a new summary for the story, because the current one seems rather bland and unexciting. Sadly I like most people it seems, suck at writing summaries.


	39. A Fine Day

Arya:

 

"Look at all of them!" Lyarra exclaimed while both her and Arya stared out of the side window of the massive wheelhouse, which took up the entirety of whatever road it went on. From what Arya could see, it looked to be nearly two or three thousand men camped outside of Riverrun. It was a strange and triangular castle was Riverrun and it was surrounded by water on two of it's three sides and on it's third was a massive trench with an iron floodgate that Arya knew and heard could be opened to make it an island fort.

Arya poked her head out of the window and tried to decipher all of the banners in the camp. After spotting Blackwood, Bracken, Piper, and Smallwood, there were all just too many of them and the colors all seemed to blend together in a myriad of colors. "There were many more soldiers at Harrenhal." Arya reminded Lyarra. The wheelhouse had briefly stopped at the ruined castle for a few hours, and in that time Lyarra met with her father Yohn Royce along with Arya who always was wanted to tag along where ever she went. Her father did seem pleased that she had found a companion on the road and he welcomed Arya into their household for as long as Arya wished. Even though in truth Arya knew that the offer only lasted for as long as Lyarra wanted her around and not a second longer, but it still was kind. Harrenhal had always seemed so monstrous when Arya first was held captive there and time had not made it any smaller. Lyarra had reminded her of the rumor that it could garrison a million men, in truth it looked like it was fully garrisoned by the thirty thousand men Lord Royce said were there.

"But they were all hidden somewhere in that giant castle. All of these men are out in the open with their banners flying high and proud." Lyarra's hand then shot out towards Riverrun and she explained. "Do you see that falcon on the field of blue?" Arya did as it seemed like every other banner hanging off the walls was that one. "It's the falcon of house Arryn. And do you know what that wolf is?"

 _Of course I do, that's my house's direwolf._ Arya thought to herself as she looked out at the banner hanging proudly from the walls.  _So it's true, she really is here._ It gave Arya an uncomfortable pang in her chest as she remembered just how close she was to her brother right before a wedding. She wanted to think that all these men were here to protect her sister, but so were all the men in Robb's army. "That is the direwolf of house Stark." Arya responded back and Lyarra nodded her confirmation and seemed prideful for some reason of how Arya knew it.

"And hanging above them all is?" Lyarra asked as she directed Arya to the single Targaryen banner that was far larger than all others and flew on a pole of wood on top of the castle's peak by it's lonesome.

She had only seen it in maester Luwin's books as illustrations before now, and it truly made much more of an impression here than it ever did back in the Maester's study in Winterfell. "That is the three headed dragon of house Targaryen."

Lyarra coed and then fell back flat backed onto her featherbed. "If the Gods are on my side than that will be my house one day, and my children will be princes and princesses." The Royce girl weakly lifted her pink-cheeked head off the bed and asked Arya. "And do you know what their house words are?"

She wanted to snicker and laugh at Lyarra as everyone knew those words, even smallfolk and peasants could have told her. "Fire and Blood." She answered in a flat tone, that did not betray her true thoughts.

"Correct, and my house words are 'We remember'. I think they go together quite well, though they don't look quite as good as our two sigils do together." Arya could tell that quite well already, as Lyarra had finished four needlepoints, two handkerchiefs, and she was nearly done with a shawl and all had the Targaryen dragon bordered by runes of course. Thankfully she had not forced Arya to partake in knitting with her and she would just simply keep her company and would converse the whole time instead. Ser Samwell Stone had urged Lyarra to practice her bowmanship the entire trip, but in the end Arya had only been able to instruct Lyarra thrice during their travels. She could usually hit somewhere near the middle from six yards, but anything over eight yards and she would panic and miss completely.

"Aren't you excited for the wedding?" Arya asked for what reason she did not know.

Lyarra's face scrunched up in thought before she answered. "I am, I do so hope to see true love between those two. And I've never been to a wedding quite as large as this one, my poor sister's wedding had only fifty people and five courses. But may I be so bold to trust you with a secret?" Arya turned from the window and looked down at the pretty and spoiled girl who looked ready to burst into a fit of giggles. After nodding her confirmation, Lyarra rocked off of her back and onto her knees beside her. "From what I remember, Harrold was a notorious womanizer. Even when we were all growing up, he still had a rather unhealthy fascination with those not of his gender." She whispered it into Arya's ear as if it was some big secret that all of the nobodies in the wheelhouse could hear.

"So what are you trying to say?" Arya asked as she pulled away from Lyarra who had a bright smile that breathed of anticipation.

The Royce girl pulled back close to Arya and said in a whisper that tinged with amusement. "I doubt he'll ever stay faithful to her bed."

That gave her a sick belly and it angered her how Lyarra could be so cold and find amusement in that. Without saying another word she walked away from the window and took the seat nearest the bookcase. "If you marry King Aegon, do you think he'll keep only to your bed?" When Arya said it she knew she should not have.

But fortunately Lyarra did not seem to find any insinuation in her words and answered her honestly. "From what I've heard, he's how a proper King should be. He's courteous, brave, kind, gentle, and strong. Not to mention handsome."

Arya turned her face away from the foolish Royce girl before her lips trembled under a snicker of amusement.  _And what should a proper King be? A fat drunk? Or a cruel and craven little shit?_  When Arya thought of what a King should look like she saw her brother and then her father. "How do you know all that about him? Just from the rumors and stories?"

"I suppose you could call them that. Though my father has never seen fit to lie to me before." For how flighty the girl really was, Arya sometimes struggled to truly get angry with her for how genuine and unknowing she always seemed to be. Silence however overtook them soon thereafter and no words were exchanged until they passed through the gates of Riverrun. "I have to admit I'm nervous." Lyarra exclaimed and Arya could tell by how flushed her face was. In truth she herself held similar feelings for truly different reasons, as her belly felt lighter than a feather at that moment at the thought of seeing her sister.

"Why? He's just some man, nothing so special that you haven't seen before." When the wheelhouse came to a sliding halt a loud and annoying horn blew to signal their coming.

Before Lyarra could reply, Ser Samwell opened the door and stepped into the wheelhouse. "Are you all ready to go, M'ladies? They have your room set up already."

Arya got back to her feet and stretched the stiffness from her back. The Royce was not quite as lively as Arya was when she stood up from her bed and brushed smoothed her dress down. "Will you have my dresses brought up to my room now? I want to change into something nicer than this." Arya did not exactly see why she needed to change her current dress which was slate gray and light orange. It seemed fine to her and it was not even dirty or torn, but of course Lyarra wanted to be in her best before meeting the man of her dreams.

Sam looked around the room and asked the Royce girl which of the trunks she wanted first. After pointing him to a gold enameled one, Samwell simply hoisted it up and onto his shoulders with a grunt and led them down the steps. The sky was cloudy and it would not have surprised Arya if it snowed later though the sun could still be seen poking out through the clouds in places too. The courtyard itself was relatively empty of any carriages or carts, besides their own wheelhouse which dominated the northern corner. It was however packed to the brim with many men and women who all conversed amongst themselves loudly, and all were dressed in fine silks and elegant ensembles of lace in nearly a thousand different colors. Arya was not left with anything more than a few seconds to look around her mother's former home before Lyarra had seized her hand and led her along after Ser Samwell.

Arya did not recognize any of the people she saw as they forced their way through the dense crowd and into the castle. Lyarra Royce claimed to see Lady Anya Waynwood in the crowd, though Arya had no idea who that was. After getting into the castle's side entrance it was just a short walk up a flight of stairs while they followed after Samwell who teetered down two different hallways with them following. They eventually stopped at a double sided wooden door which was engraved with prancing stags. It was guarded by a young man wearing a leather cap who looked to be a servant and had a foolish looking patch of hair above his upper lip. "Lady Lyarra Royce?" The short and thin man asked politely.

"Aye, this is her." Samwell Stone answered in her place and he seemed to be struggling under the trunk's weight at that point and may have been having second thoughts on carrying it by himself. The servant nodded his head and stuck a copper key into the lock. After the doors swung open, Ser Samwell pushed past him and dropped the heavy trunk in the room right next to the doors. "Come in and get comfy M'ladies." Lyarra stepped in first and Arya followed in behind her. The room was far nicer than she expected it to be. It had a featherbed that looked like it could hold three people and beside it was a small wooden cot in the corner for herself, she guessed. Not only that, but there also was a huge bouquet of white and blue flowers that contained light asters and queen Alysane's laces. Lyarra Royce gushed over them when the servant informed them that King Aegon had picked them all himself that day.

Samwell Stone had only stayed for a few minutes before he departed to go help unload the rest of the wheelhouse. Lyarra silently counted the seconds until he left and when he did, she nearly tore herself out of her dress. Arya thought she had a well sized chest when she looked upon it, bigger than her's anyhow. After Arya helped Lyarra into her new dress of silver myrish lace and black silk they both sat at the vanity looking glass and Arya brushed her hair until it was as smooth as the dress she wore. In truth Arya knew that the Royce girl was counting the moments until she could leave and go find Aegon, Arya also felt the same way so she could go and search the castle for her sister.

"How do I look?" She had asked after Arya finished brushing her reddish brown hair. Before Arya could answer, however, she stood up to show off her body and dress to herself it seemed.

Arya absentmindedly set the brush down on the vanity and exclaimed in a fake voice of enthusiasm. "Perfect, now he won't be able to resist or see anyone besides you."

That served to excite Lyarra and she looked positively giddy when she skipped towards the doors. "Are you coming with?"

"Don't you want to go meet him alone? I think it would show your bravery quite well if you showed him that you needed no support to find him." Arya did not know if it was convincing or not, but she hoped it was for she did not want to watch her new friend make a fool of herself.

The idea floated through the Royce girl's head for a few moments before she snapped back into life and nodded. "You're right, you're always right, Arya." Lyarra Royce ran over to her and nearly knocked her over with a tight hug and soon after she planted a wet kiss on her cheek. "I don't know what I would do without you, my friend. I want you to know that you will always have a place in my household even after I marry the King."

"Th-thank you." Arya stuttered out in a whisper while Lyarra released her hold of Arya as her genuine appreciation of her help had taken her by true surprise. Her friend spun around on her heels and paced out of the room with confidence growing with each new step. Arya waited a few more moments to be sure the Royce girl would not be coming back. After she was sure, she stripped out of her own dress of woolen dress pale yellow. She searched through her own possessions and found a shoddy woolen dress of black with blue trim that the old crone Jayde deemed too old for Lyarra's use and gave it to Arya as a hand me down. It looked like it would serve as a way to disguise herself as a servant and that was what she wagered her hopes on. Because remembering to when they were back in the courtyard, Arya did not see even one woolen dress on any of the noble ladies. It seemed foolish to her that they preferred their looks over their comfort in the cold weather as the wind was blowing fiercely and coldly at their backs on the entire way from Harrenhal to Riverrun. She also took the chance to slip out of her wooden soled boots and back into her comfy Braavosi boots which the Royce had seen fit to wear only thrice before giving them back to Arya without talk of her having to return the coin Ser Samwell paid her.

After she stepped out and into the hall she shut the doors behind her and glanced around the halls wondering where to go first. She knew it would be risky to go through the training square or back to the main entrance of the castle as Lyarra would most likely be there looking for Aegon Targaryen.  _Rumors and whispers spread most easily through the lips of those forgotten._ The Kindly Man's advice rattled through Arya's head and she followed his advice and set off to find the kitchens and listen to the servants for directions.

Arya had heard much about Riverrun from her mother when she was still just a child, but in truth, it was much more subdued than she thought it would be. Most of the levels were comprised of wooden walls, wooden ceilings, and planked floors, though Arya did not know for certain if that was just all ascetics and if there was actually stone underneath. She enjoyed passing by and looking at all the carved wooden posts. They all seemed to tell a story or teach a lesson if you could follow them in their order. She did stop before one and admire it and how it showed a ruined castle abuzz with fireflies over it while the weeds or what she thought were weeds rose to the chest of a single person who stood in the carving.

"You are a marvel of everything I have ever preached, truly." Exclaimed a rough voice that Arya would remember until the day she died, and without pause, she hid in between the wall and post. "I once had a student who would have given his left arm to even see you, let alone converse with you." The same unseen voice followed up with.

Arya could not hear who he was talking to, though she could poke her head out to see who it was when they passed by.  _Why in the hells is he here?_ Arya wondered as she watched the same squat and wide set man who stopped Branton from attacking her walk by. He was not by himself however as on his left side was a woman who's hood was drawn fully up to obscure her face. Arya could not hear the woman speak, but it seemed like they were conversing about something as the man's face reacted and moved like she had said something.

"If the wound bothers you so, I might have a remedy that will make it less obtrusive." The man told the hooded woman flatly. It sounded something like a low whisper that the woman gave in response, but it was too quiet for Arya to hear it. "If that's how you feel, then I will respect your wishes, my Lady." Arya could not hear anything else after the twosome rounded the far corner of the hall, but they had left the hallway empty besides for her.

"That was too close," Arya admitted as she pulled herself out from behind the snug hiding spot she made a point of remembering in case she ever had to hide again. She did not know what would have happened if he saw her or if he would have even recognized her, but she did not want to find out the answer. _I should have just stolen a damn head covering or scarf._ Arya knew that she could not go the way they did, so she doubled back to where she came from and climbed down the servant's staircase which only gave enough space for one person to use. She kept walking until she found her way into the kitchens which were abuzz and chaotic with dozens of people running around frantically preparing for the coming wedding. Arya did find it weird however as she knew the wedding feast and ceremony in the sept were not until the next day.

"Get the bloody lemons in the back, we'll need to prepare the desserts tonight!" Commanded a stern-faced and lean built man who Arya guessed was the head cook due to his impressive fur hat which added another foot to his height. In her staring, she was almost run over by a crowd of men who carried a crate of lemons that looked like it weighed a horse. "Have you layabouts finished the cream? I'll have your heads tossed into the Trident if that fruit tart isn't in the guests bellies on the morrows feast!" As he screamed, several serving girls ran over to a crust of pie nearly as big as Lyarra's featherbed. The man soon turned to Arya and thrust a tray holding nearly a dozen wine filled cups into her hands. "Get these out to the squire grounds, and so help you I better not see one person who even looks parched!"

She did as he asked without argument as it gave her the first opportunity to get out of that hellhole. "Right away." She exclaimed as she passed by him and walked out of the servant entrance into a dirt covered tract of land. This was the sort of place Arya wished to be during weddings she thought as she watched the squires as they battered each other with their training weapons. She did not even have to announce her reason for being there before a horde of squires descended on her and took nearly half of the wine with them. Which was thankful her arms felt as the silver tray was rather heavy with all that wine on it.

"Over here." Called out a voice near the corner of the yard. As she followed the voice to its source, she had to steady herself for fear of falling when she looked at the one who owned the voice. "So then he looked around like he was all of a chicken, and so I fired and caught him through the face with a bolt." Boasted a black haired boy to a crowd of five other boys and three girls. But what startled her was how much he looked of Gendry, though he was smaller, younger, and much louder than Gendry was.

"Here you are, M'lord." She managed to say to him over her debilitating nerves.

The black haired boy turned to her and his bright blue eyes met hers. "Thanks." And he nodded thankfully to her as he pulled two goblets off the tray. He handed one to a honey-haired girl with doe eyes and drank deeply from the second. Arya breathed in deeply to steady herself and she turned on her heels before he called her back. "Wait."

"What is it?" She asked while averting her eyes from his.

He brushed his thick black hair back and it was then that Arya knew he could not be Gendry due to the size of his large and foolish looking ears. His hand stabbed into his pocket and he pulled out five copper pennies and dropped them on Arya's tray. "Do you see the barracks over there?" He asked as he pointed over to a stone building on the opposite side of the training square. Arya nodded her head and he continued. "There is a man in there, thick of chest, sandy-haired, and loud as a ringing bell. Go bring him the rest of that wine and tell him it's from Edric."

Arya did not care about the few pieces of copper he had dropped, but it would get her out of the yard and back into the castle so she took the chance. "Right away." She told him as she spun on her heels and walked towards the barracks. Though she had to suppress her anger when she heard the same black haired boy complimented her backside to his stupid and loud friends in a not so quiet hush.

The barracks were of course packed with many more people, except this time it was with noisy soldiers and other men at arms who all seemed to have grabby hands for either Arya or whoever else with tits walked by their reach. It did not take her too long to find the sandy-haired man who wore a bright smile and seemed to always have his mouth open boasting. "Compliments of Edric-" It was right there she realized that she did not even know that boy's last name.

The sandy haired and blue eyed man did not seem to even notice her pause when he took his arm off a buxom woman's waist to retrieve the entire tray from her and onto the table near him. "That little bugger, he always knows how to bring a smile to my face." The man put his head back and finished off an entire goblet of wine. After slamming the cup back down on the table his other arm retreated from the second girl who was on his lap and it tossed a silver coin at Arya. "Ahh, that was just what I needed." Both of his large hands grabbed one breast of each of the two women. "Big titties and good wine." The girls laughed, but not nearly as loud he could. "I'd offer you ten silver stags, girl if you'd go make Edric a man tonight ... if you're interested of course? You do look to be the same age-" He leaned in close to her and Arya stiffened up as his foul breath which stunk of wine and of something musky invaded her nose. "And just between you and me, you're the best looking girl in here." He pulled back then and let out another burst of laughter while his hand found it's way to another cup of wine.

"No thank you," Arya responded flatly. After the man started laughing and groping the women again, she turned towards the exit and did not look back even once. It was fully apparent to her then that it did not matter where some men came from whether it was Westeros or Essos. Because in truth some men were just foul and crude on the inside. Sharako was that sort of awful man who deserved to die when he took advantage of unsuspecting girls who only wanted love from him. She did not know if that sandy haired man was like Sharako, but she did know one thing and that was what became of men like that in the end. When they all realized that wine and woman could not actually make them happy in the end.

The next part of the castle was much quieter to Arya's thanks, but to her dismay it also had the largest amount of noblemen and women, including Lyarra who was flanked by many other ladies. She knew that she could not be seen so she tried to sneak around the outside of the gathering and gave polite nods and curtsies to anyone who looked upon her. It did annoy her though how some of the stupid noblewomen would snicker amongst themselves at her efforts. "And what are you up to?" A masculine voice asked her that gave her a fright.

Arya jumped and spun around to the voice which was owned by Ser Samwell Stone who gave her a suspicious look. "I was just keeping an eye on, M'lady Lyarra."

The large man's smile wavered for a moment before it got brighter and he ruffled her hair which had been meticulously straightened and cleaned by the crones earlier in the day. "Well, that is kind of you." He exclaimed before leaving her to her own devices and returning to his conversation with a beak-nosed man who had salt and peppered hair. Arya hesitated before passing by them as they spoke of Sansa. "So is the girl really as pretty as they say?" Samwell asked the man in obvious anticipation.

"Pretty isn't the word I don't think, enchanting is more appropriate for her." The beak-nosed man chuckled and then added in after. "My little girl Bethany, aspires to be like her when she's older. I just escorted her to Lady Sansa's room not too long ago actually."

Samwell snickered himself then. "Little Bethany's grown out of her adventurous period has she? I still remember that rambunctious little girl who clutched at her father's leg and wrestled with his feet to make them surrender his boots." Arya wanted to stay and listen, but the beak-nosed man suddenly had glanced at her and taken notice of her still being near. 

 _She has to be on one of the higher floors._ Arya realized and after sliding and bumping her way through the crowd she reached the wide staircase leading to the more important rooms. After climbing five steps up, she turned back around as it gave her an easier view of the entrance hall and of all the servants who scurried along the floors attending to the noble's requests. Arya tried to turn back up the stairs, but she heard a round of laughter break out from right under the railing of the staircase.

"I myself am quite an accomplished harp player, your Grace." Exclaimed a thin and average looking girl from below and soon after she said it the rest of the girl's near her raised either objections or brought up what they were skilled in. Among them was Lyarra who bragged about being able to make a ten yard shot with a longbow. Unfortunately, Arya realized that Lyarra blended into the crowd and did not stand out at all even with her new dress. If she had not known Lyarra or who she was, she would not have known she was there for how well she stood out.

The one who they all fought and argued for, simply smiled and allowed them all to make their cases while he wore a look of soft neutrality. "The realms are blessed to have so many talented girls in one room." He exclaimed and the girl's all cooed before him like pigeons.

The man in question was a face she still remembered quite well. "Aegon Targaryen." Arya murmured under her breath while watching his subtle movements around the girls. He would often wince and stiffen up anytime one initiated contact and then he would smile or tell a jape. Lastly, he would single out one of the girls and ask them a simple question of either their family, their hobbies, or what food they liked, and every girl would then blush or pale when his dark violet eyes landed on them. The words that flowed from his lips which had once touched her own were just as sweet and fluid as they had been back in Braavos. "Stupid girls." She said in disgust and when she turned back up the stairs she bumped into a boy who had noticeable sty under his eye. And unfortunately, for him, he was carrying a flagon of wine which spilled all over his pink doublet. "Watch where you're going, stupid," Arya ordered him without care for his clothes and then she pushed passed him to get up up the stairs.

"Very sorry, M'lady." The boy called back up to her in a quiet and very unsure voice.

That made Arya even angrier, but she did not have time to deal with him for she needed to find her sister. Though Arya did feel like she had sat around far too much on the journey the wheelhouse, as her chest felt off by the time she reached the top of the staircase and her belly felt light again. "You are too kind." Aegon's voice poured out over all the rest in the room and it was followed by the laughter of the girls on cue.

"Master Bedwyck says he needs more myrish lace!" Screamed a handmaiden to another as she pushed past Arya and skipped down the stairs two steps at a time.

Arya turned to the second handmaiden and saw how her hands were full with hundreds of different patterns. "Let me help you," Arya exclaimed as she rushed over and managed to catch a loose bolt of fabric before it touched the floor.

The raven haired handmaiden struggled to crane her neck around the mountain of fabric to give Arya a thankful smile. "Could you help?" Arya did not hesitate before the task and filled her arms with the multitude of different wools, silks, and velvet. "Thank you so much, just follow me." The girl told her and then they both set off down an empty hall. As they walked the girl turned back and asked her. "I haven't seen you before, are you new here?"

Arya nodded her head. "Yes, today is my first day."

The handmaiden looked exhausted to Arya that was only more apparent when she gave her a sideways smile. "Well, you picked quite a day to start. We've been run ragged all this morn trying to prepare, the M'lady Sansa. Tonight is the banquet feast, morrow morn is the ceremony in the sept, and later then is the wedding feast. So we need to prepare at least three dresses and backup if the unspeakable happens."

"Is she happy?" Arya asked as the question seemed to slip past her lips and the girl did not seem to understand the question so Arya quickly added. "Is M'lady Sansa happy with all of this?"

"She is. Though she won't admit it, I think she is just as tired if not more so than us." Before Arya could respond or ask anything else, the raven haired girl knocked an ajar door open with her hip. "I brought every fabric I could find of red, blue, gray, and white." The girl turned to an opened trunk of different materials and she dropped them all in and motioned for Arya to do the same.

A thin and tall man dressed in green velvet rounded the corner of the room and looked between them both. "Good, now go and collect my silk and wool threads. Be sure to bring back as many colors as you can carry too." The man's sharp eyes then looked down at Arya and he asked her. "Who are you? I don't know you."

She quickly curtsied before him in her best attempt and noted his prying and hostile eyes. "Today is my first day."

The man seemed to study her for a few seconds before something clicked in his head and his stern mouth softened. "Fine, Maerie go and get the threads. And you new girl, can come with me." Without another word shared with the raven haired girl Maerie, she turned and ran from the room. The tall man himself turned away from her and walked back around the corner of the room. "Pick five of your favorites and bring them with you.' He ordered.

Arya looked into the trunk and grabbed five patterns at random and then she half-jogged and half ran beyond him into the room. "I brought these-" Arya's voice got caught in her throat as she looked at the tall auburn haired girl posing before a full sized looking glass that dominated the wall. The dressmaker took them from her hands and gave them a look over before returning to Sansa's side and showing them to her.

From behind Arya heard a small voice ask her. "Who are you?" Arya turned to the voice and saw a small black haired girl with dark green eyes sitting on the bed and looking back at her.

"I'm ..."

"Get over here and hand me my pins," Bedwyck demanded in a stern voice and Arya did as he bid. Though she did walk slowly and with her head down in fear of the woman she once called her sister. "Now then my lovely visage, what color do you like best?" He asked Sansa in a much gentler and kinder tone than Arya had heard from him since meeting.

Sansa turned her head and looked down at the fabrics in his hand. "Let's try the blue first, I don't like red." After turning away from the fabrics, Sansa stared back at herself through the glass. "Harrold's house colors are blue as well."

The dressmaker handed the rest of the fabrics to Arya and placed the blue silk against Sansa's plain shift. "Blue and white are your coming husband's colors, correct?"

Sansa smiled and nodded her head. "It is, and I must thank you for coming all the way from Myr, Master Bedwyck. I had only heard the most amazing tales of your craftsmanship while I was in King's Landing."

"I'm Myrish, my good Lady Stark. We are the greatest craftsmen in the world." His chuckle was the softest thing about him, Arya found. His accent was very subtle, but in truth she did not know what accent the Myrish possessed and he could have claimed to be Westerosi and she could not have disputed him. "And it is my job to be sure you are the most beautiful woman at your wedding, and for that I must thank you for you yourself have already made my job complete. I could toss a carrot sack on you and I would still wager my pleasure barge on you being the most beautiful in the entire castle."

Sansa's face lit up in joy at the compliment, though Arya knew it was undoubtedly true. "You are too kind, Master Bedwyck. I've dreamed of a wedding like this since I was very young, so I want it to be perfect."

The dressmaker kept laying on the compliments and Arya felt a thousand were not enough to describe how her sister looked. "And I'm sure it will be just that." He then turned to Arya and motioned her forward. "Tell me, new girl, is this, not the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes on?"

Arya tried to find her voice and look up at Sansa, but the tears clouded her vision when she tried. "She is, she is perfect in every way. Just like she always was." She could not stand any longer and she embraced Sansa from behind. "I've missed you so much." Arya sobbed onto the back of Sansa's white shift.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked in a panic as she stiffened up and fought with Arya's hands to no avail. "What is wrong with your assistant?" Sansa begged to know.

Arya felt the dressmaker wrap his arms around her waist and he tried to pull her away, but Arya would not let go, not ever again. "Sansa, I love you so much and I'm sorry." Arya continued to chant as the tears fell harder and easier. "It's me, Arya, it's your sister." She complained and Sansa's movements halted as she froze in place.

Sansa's hands gently touched Arya's, and she slowly rubbed at her skin. "Let me see your face," Sansa demanded as she spun around and forced Arya to look at her. Sansa dropped down to her knees on the podium and she held Arya's face by her chin while she looked down into her gray eyes, while Arya stared back into Sansa's own blue.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as Sansa's blue eyes moistened. But Arya's own tears fell harder than ever before in her life when she Sansa's own tears slide down her cheeks. "I finally found you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment telling me so. And if you had problems with this chapter tell me or I'll never know how to improve.
> 
> Been considering a sort of short prequel with Aegon recently. Not sure if I will do it or when, but I just thought I'd throw it out there and see what you all thought. It would be in a separate work from this, though in the same cannon I've created.


	40. A Dream Wedding

Sansa:

 

It had been everything she wanted, hundreds of different flowers, dozens of courses for supper, her family was with her, and the man she loved was by her side, but yet something still felt missing. "Open your mouth, they'll love this." Harry exclaimed in a hush while he kept staring forward at the wedding guests to not tip them off. Without complaint she opened her mouth and he fed a plump and juicy red grape to the sighs and coos of the guests who saw it. "That was perfect, just like you." Harry murmured before he captured her tenderly lips with his own in a chaste manner.

"I love you." Sansa knew it with all her heart when she looked into his bright eyes. When his dimples flared up the pain in her chest for him was almost unbearable. "Do you love me?"

Harry smiled and rubbed the top of her hand on the table. "If I didn't love you why would I marry you?" As he said it, Sansa noticed his vision flicker over her shoulder. "Are you enjoying the food, Arya?" Sansa knew her sister must have been watching them then.

She turned to her sister who had a look of disgust on her face to Sansa's dismay. With a stern look from Sansa, she warned Arya to be kind. Arya gritted her teeth and exclaimed through tight held lips. "It's fine, though I will admit it's a little tough to chew." Without another word, Arya turned away from them and to her plate while she kept poking at the cut of meat placed before her.

Before the welcoming banquet last night, Arya had done her best to tell her of all the places she had been to and all the faces she had seen. It sounded all unbelievable to Sansa, but some of the things she said had proof to back up her claims. Like especially with how she now spoke Braavosi, or what Arya told her was Braavosi. Sansa felt they had dropped half a stone of weight in tears alone that day between both of them. She had told Arya of everything that had happened, minus a few of the grittier details that Arya did not need to know about Petyr and the beatings she recieved in King's Landing and of course of the Hounds kiss and song he stole from her. It did disturb her how callous Arya seemed to be with the death of others, and even more so with how practical she looked at her Sweetrobin's murder.  _It's a mercy isn't it? He would have either died in pain or he would have destroyed the Vale with his stupidity._ Sansa felt ashamed at herself for wanting strike Arya so soon after finding her again, but she also felt ashamed of her sister by how she spoke so easily of their cousin's undeserved fate.

Sansa had thrown everyone out of the room after Arya revealed herself, even little Bethany whom Sansa had such of a fondness for. She would always smile at everything Sansa would say and she would always listen carefully to her advice. But what truly cemented her place in Sansa's heart was when she told her how she wished she was her sister. Lady Brienne had excused herself to go relieve her bladder during that time before Arya arrived and when she returned to Sansa she was told her what had happened. The woman looked like she had wanted to join them in their embrace, but she excused herself to go find their mother and bring her there. When mother had come to the room, her disfigured face had resumed the same softness it always had when she saw Sansa. Though this time it was even deeper than that and she silently hugged them both. Sansa knew that if her mother could cry, she would have been bawling like Arya and herself were.

"Allow me to sing for you a song, my good Lord and good Lady of the noble house of Arryn." Exclaimed Collio Quaynis in his thick Tyroshi accent to the cheers of the crowd.

Harry stood up from the table and called out with much mirth. "I would be so honored, sing of the 'Fair Maids of Summer'." Without another word in response, Collio rolled backwards on his shoulder and hopped back up into the air with his bronze harp and began to play to the amusement and joy of the crowd.

Looking out at all of the faces, it seemed such a happy contrast to her first wedding as all of these Lords looked happy for her and to be there. Lord Tytos Blackwood and all of his sons would give her a smile or a polite nod anytime she looked to them. Little Bethany would offer a polite wave herself and Sansa was so thankful to have her. Though on the other side of that was Aegon whose smile was always the brightest and most condescending. It got even worse when the dancing started Sansa had found as the more bold girls would find him and ask him for a dance. He would then accept of course and when they were finished the girls would saunter over to Harry and ask for his dance next, like it was not his wedding and he was less important.

When Aegon had gotten his respite from the request for the moment he made his way over to the front of the wedding table before Sansa and Arya. "Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Arryn?" He asked her with a small bow of the head and offering of his hand.

 _He even tried to upstage my Harry in his dress._ Sansa could only feel contempt and disgust when she looked at Aegon in his outfit of black silk with silver chasings. He wore a blood red short cape that hung over his right shoulder, but he did see fit to forsake his ugly crown of iron and rubies. "You are so generous to offer that, your Grace. But I wish for my first dance as a married woman to be with my husband, I hope you understand."

His smile flickered in unsurety, before it stabilized like the true politician he was. "I do, Lord Arryn is quite lucky to have such a passionate and loyal wife." It seemed like boasting for how loud and proud his voice grew. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

 _What do you care for my feelings?_ Sansa gripped her dinner fork tightly, but swallowed down her pride and smiled back. "Very much so. This wedding is everything I've ever dreamed of, your Grace. From the food to my dress and my husband, it is all just perfect." Sansa then gripped Arya's arm with her right hand and exclaimed. "And I even have my family back, so I'd have to admit this is the best day of my life."

"Good, very good." It did not sound so to Sansa. "Family is the most important thing in life, take it from someone who doesn't have anyone left." His eyes trembled as he look at Sansa and they seemed to lose focus. When Sansa opened her mouth to respond he continued with a small chuckle. "And look at me, talking about myself on your day. I'll depart for now, my Lady Arryn, but I will be back for that dance after Harrold's."

Sansa gripped her fork and Arya's arm even harder, but she still held strong. "I look forward to it, your Grace."

Aegon then turned his eyes and smile on her sister. "Would you like a dance, Lady Arya?"

 _Let him have it, Arya._ She could not wait for Arya to put him in his place. "No thank you, I don't dance." It was simple and polite to Sansa's disappointment and their mother's thanks.

His smile never wavered once when he said. "It seems I've lost favor with the Starks." His smile was easy to be charmed by and he knew it, which was why he did it then.

Sansa looked over at her sister and wanted to kiss her again for turning him down and making him look the fool. But on Arya's other side was their mother who tightly gripped Arya's other arm and no doubt would have words with her as soon as Aegon left. "I'm sure she'll kick herself for it later in life." Her great uncle Brynden japed from the other side of their mother. "I thought you would be happy though, from what I've seen you've already danced near a dozen times, your Grace."

"I'm sure I'll have danced thrice that number before the night gives out. But so is the duties of a King I suppose, and as they say the job never ends." He turned back from her her great uncle and looked down at Arya and then at Sansa with his smile still bright as ever. "Good day, my Ladies." Without another word he stepped down from the raised platform their table sat on and returned to his own table to sit next to Tyrion and his own squire Edric Storm.

It was hard to make out what her mother had said to Arya over the music and singing, but it did not seem like either of them were happy after it was done. Sansa waited for her mother's attention to be drawn by her great uncle and then she leaned down and whispered in her sister's ear. "Thank you for doing that."

Arya turned back up to her with a look of confusion and sounded incredulous. "Did you think I actually wanted to dance?"

"All the same, thank you. The wolf pack stays strongest when we stick together, you know that though." Sansa smiled at her sister and then turned her head down to look at the small serving of lemon trout on her plate. "You should try some of-"

Arya spoke up with steel and fire in her voice. "But you're not a wolf anymore. You're a falcon now, along with your new _husband_." Sansa picked up the emphasis she placed on the word husband and it was not appreciated at all.

It had hurt her feelings on the night before this one after Arya had met Harry during the banquet, and then when she told her of how Harry had his hands over different woman hours before. But Sansa knew that it was a normal thing for men to get all their inhibitions out before they wed and that after they were married, Sansa would be his one and only desire. Arya was not so sure even though she did not say it in her words, Sansa could just tell of that when Arya went silent. Her sister promised to forget that she saw it, and that she would not tell their mother and that she would not hold it against Harry.

"We've already talked about this, and you promised dear sister." Sansa gave Arya a look of warning from the corner of her eye and Arya wanted to fight back so bad, but she hung her head and listened to her older sister all the same.

Harry climbed back up the steps and took his seat beside Sansa then. "What did the King want?"

Sansa turned to her beloved and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "He simply wanted a dance, my Love."

"And why didn't you give him one?" Harry asked before he tossed a handful of berries into his mouth. "It's unwise to turn down a King's request. You should have gone with him."

 _Maybe you should not have been feeling up women the day before our wedding._ Sansa's darker voice wanted to say, but this was not the time or place for that. "I just wanted to share the first dance with you, my Love."

Harry reached for a goblet of wine and tried to drink from it, but it was empty. "I need more wine." Harry complained and soon after a buxom serving woman made her way to their side of the table and leaned over to pour. "I just need some wine in my belly and I'll give you two dances." Harry said with a smile that showed off his dimples. But what was not needed was his eyes travelling over the serving woman's large breasts and then what came right after. "Thank you, Melly."

Sansa felt her rage boiling when he said her name, and especially when the big breasted cow shared a smile with her Harry. "Anything for you, Lord Arryn." The woman told him with a throaty voice.

She desperately wanted to take that goblet and smash it into the woman's face, but she knew she could not for that is what Arya would do. And Arya is not a proper lady, but Sansa Arryn is and she has manners and knows when to initiate conversations and take stands like that, and it was not at a wedding feast. It took her much strength to move beyond it, and when she turned to Arya she realized her sister had seen it all and was watching everything that had just transpired. But even worse was how Arya's hard and cold eyes told her that the serving woman Melly, was in fact one of the woman Arya had seen the past day on her Harry's lap. Sansa could not work up her nerves to meet Arya's gaze and when she turned forward to look towards the guests, her worst fears came to life as Aegon and Tyrion both watched silently and unmoving. When Tyrion realized she had spotted him, he coughed and looked down at his feet, while Aegon's gaze lingered on Harry for several more seconds before he looked away and resumed eating his white beans.

After wiping his face with a silken cloth of purple, Harry offered her his hand for the dance. It pleased Sansa how the floor cleared and allowed them the center for their dance all while all the others circled around them with their own partners. The dressmaker Master Bedwyck had been meticulous with every detail of her dress and it was perfect in every way Sansa felt. It was of an ivory and cream color which was in fashion in Volantis at the moment according to Bedwyck, he told her that Volantis was where most of the fashion trends started and she was already ahead of the curve in Westeros. He had even designed a dress for Arya, though it was not anything to special or inspired and was only a grey and light blue woolen dress that Arya had begrudgingly let him make the morn before the ceremony in the sept.

Collio had started to sing 'Six Maids in a Pool' when they stepped off the raised platform. Sansa thought his choice could have been more romantic, but it served well enough. Harry was a poor dancer in truth, she soon found that out as he mostly carried her around the floor. She did not really mind as he was warm and comforting. "All eyes are on us," Harry whispered into her ear and the warmth of his breath tickled her heart.

"That's how it should be." Sansa murmured back before letting her cheek rest on his broad shoulder. There were many other people dancing around them, Lord Bracken and his daughter Lady Catelyn, Ser Patrek Mallister and Lady Gretchel Hunter. But what caught her eye the most was the quick dash of silver and black that twirled around a dainty little girl with green eyes.

Little Bethany had the brightest smile Sansa had ever seen on her face and it soon allowed laughter to escape when Aegon lifted her in his arms and spun her around. "You're the most beautiful girl in the room, they would be either daft or without eyes not to look solely at you." Harry responded back into her ear before he gave her quick peck on the cheek.

Sansa however did not have the capacity to keep up this conversation while watching little Bethany buy into Aegon's false persona. Even Aegon himself would laugh when she spun and tipped toed around him. It was in that moment that Sansa was happy Bethany was so young and had no chance at marrying him, for she did not deserve such a life with him. "Poor little Beth." Sansa exclaimed under her breath.

"She's having fun, that will be something she dreams of tonight." Harry then spun Sansa around herself then and a snicker forced it's way through her own lips when he did so. "And I don't want you thinking about anyone, but me." Sansa kissed him on the cheek and set her chin down on his shoulder while she stared throughout the wedding hall. When her gaze rested on Arya, who still sat down at the table. Sansa noticed how she rested her elbows on the table and kept her head in her hands completely disregarding proper manners and of how rude it was. Sansa was pleased however to see that her sister was closely watching Aegon and Bethany dance, and she had to thank her later for keeping an eye on little Bethany.

It seemed just as soon as they had came together had the dance ended and they were forced to separate. Aegon had led Bethany back to her father, and Edric Storm had come up behind Sansa herself and asked for a dance. Sansa looked to Harry for an answer, but he motioned her on and told her to treat the boy. "I would love to, Edric." When she said that it seemed to have great effect on the squire as his cheeks turned a bright shade of red when she placed her hands on his shoulders. He was much taller than most boys his age and while he was not quite as tall as Sansa, he was nearly there. Surprising was how he had a much faster and graceful step than Harry could ever boast or dream of, though sometimes he did move quicker than cue dictated. "How did you learn to dance so well, Edric?"

His hair fell over his blue eyes and he let out a small chuckle. "My cousin Shireen is the cause of that. We used to play and dance in Aegon's Garden back when I lived on Dragonstone under my uncle Stannis."

"Just uncle Stannis? Not King Stannis?" Sansa questioned him.

The Baratheon bastard stiffened up and he seemed to dance with much more force than. "He's not King though, he's a false pretender who claims what is King Aegon's. And on top of all that he's a truly awful man who would have had me killed to appease his false God." When they turned to the next step, Sansa noticed that Harry had found another dance partner and this one was with one Lady Catelyn Bracken with her wide hips and thin waist. "Your sister is very pretty if I may say so."

Sansa tried to focus on her conversation with Edric and not on Harry, so she chuckled under breath at his admission. "Do you think so?"

"I do, very much so in fact."

"After our dance you should go tell her so and ask for a dance. It will be her first of the night." Sansa knew it was not right and was mostly baseless dreams, but the thoughts of Arya being married to the coming Lord of Storm's End made her happy and giddy with excitement for her little sister.

Edric seemed to loosen back up as they spun back around. "Truly? No one has asked her for a dance?"

The idea seemed so strange to Edric and Sansa knew that she had to explain it further as Arya had been asked several of times, but she simply turned them all down without the a bat of an eye. "She has been asked many times it's true, but she's rather picky and can be very hardheaded. Though I'm sure that a handsome boy like yourself could get it out of her if you told her what you just told me."

"I think I will." Edric responded back with confidence just as they spun around for the final time. When they did so, Sansa got another eyeful of Harry whose hands were just touching the very bottom of the Bracken girl's bum. "Thank you very much for the dance and advice, Lady Arryn." The name seemed to stick in Sansa's head when he said it like an aftertaste would. After a quick curtsy to the Baratheon squire, she spun around to where Harry was, but he was now nowhere to be found.

"Looking for someone?" Asked a melodious voice from behind her.

Sansa jumped in fright and turned to see Aegon smiling down at her. "I was just looking for my husband is all," Sansa paused in thought of where he could have went before she remembered her manners. "your Grace."

"He is dancing with Lady Lyarra Royce." Aegon explained and then pointed them out to her. True to his word they were dancing together, though they were much farther apart than when he was with the Bracken girl. Which served to give Sansa's mind some real relief. She then nodded her head up at him and moved to step past him back towards her table, but he blocked her way and simply offered her his hand. "I do believe you promised me a dance, Lady Arryn."

Sansa knew she had no other choice then to take his hand and so she did. "I did, your Grace." She said after giving him a false smile. He pulled her close just as he did when they first danced at Margaery's wedding and Sansa remembered just how impossibly warm he was just as he had been then and she wondered if it was true that he had dragon's blood in his veins.

"You can call me, Aegon. No need for you to be so formal like that." Aegon's breath was warm and smelled of vanilla pudding, though it did nothing to suppress her disgust of him.

"If you're not to be formal at a wedding, where can you be formal at ... your Grace?"

Aegon's smile grew higher and his eyes seemed to smile as well. "I suppose you're right." Sansa made sure to keep track of his hands at all times and thankfully they never stayed passed the small of her back once. They danced in relative silence until she saw Harry's hands losing their way again and she must have given away some physical cue as Aegon knew it immediately. "I think your husband has had too much to drink tonight. The poor man must be confusing you for every women he sees."

 _No he isn't, he knows what he's doing and how he's humiliating me now. He just doesn't care._ "It seems so, your Grace." Sansa did not feel like she had the energy to play another game of words with Aegon and she counted the seconds until Collio finished singing 'My Lady Wife'.

"I'm happy you've got your sister back." Aegon's exclaimed absentmindedly while trying to keep up the conversation in a honestly off putting manner. "May I be so bold, Lady Arryn?"

 _Why not, my husband is?_ Sansa had to collect her thoughts before she could give him her answer. "You are the King, you can do or say as you wish."  _Joffrey always did._

"Do you truly want this marriage? The bedding has not taken place and you can change your mind if you wish." It was shock to say the least and Sansa had never thought it possible he would choose those words or ever shock her again, but he did and at that moment she wanted to strike him down.

For the first time since the dance started, Sansa looked up at his face and without fear of reprisal she stared deep into his violet eyes and in that time she noticed his widow's peak. "You forget yourself and your manners. Mayhaps you've been drinking too much tonight, and not my husband as you so rudely suggested."

"You're right, I did forget myself." This was not a battle she planned to lose to him and he soon realized it as he averted his gaze from her. "I apologize, sincerely."

As Sansa looked at his face she realized that he was not a monster. He was just an ordinary man and nothing to be afraid of, for she was no child any longer and she was now the Lady of all the Vale. "I hope so. Please remember yourself next time you see fit to speak out against my husband in my presence, Ser."

That seemed to crack him as if she challenged him, and maybe that was how she meant it as well. His face slowly turned down to her's and his dark eyes would not flinch while they met her own again. "I'm no Ser. And now I think it is you who is in the unfortunate situation of forgetting yourself and your tongue. I would like to politely remind you that it was me, not your husband who paid for and organized all of this around you. That food in your belly, was paid for by me. That dress you're wearing, was paid for by me and the dressmaker that made it, was brought here specifically by me for you." His words were ever calm, but they spoke of anger and of the true person Sansa knew he was under all his looks and words. "And your husband is alive and the Lord of the Vale today because of me." The song then ended and he drew close enough to kiss her at that point. "So please, sweet Lady Arryn. Don't forget that." Without another word, he drew from her and flashed another smile and mocking bow before parting his way through the dancers.

She felt stunned and did not know what to do then. It took her several moments before she returned to her table and calmly sat back down besides Arya who had a look of anger. "What were you thinking?" Arya asked.

"What are you speaking of?" Sansa asked absentmindedly before she reached over took Harry's cup of sweet arbor wine into her hands.

Arya pointed her dinner knife at Edric who was seated at his table and was currently conversing with Tyrion. "You sent him over to ask me for a dance, didn't you hear me earlier? I don't want to dance with anyone. Especially not him."

"I'm sorry, Arya, I guess I wasn't thinking." Sansa did not want to fight with her sister on this matter right now, but she did still struggle to get Aegon's words out of her head and she was so very desperate to. So she went on and chose her next words very carefully. "I just thought it might be good for you two to get acquainted."

"And why would I want to get acquainted with him?" Arya knew exactly where she was going and it infuriated her.

Sansa speared a piece of cabbage with her dinner fork and hovered it over her lips before answering with fast words. "Mayhaps you two could be married one day." Before Arya could argue back, Sansa filled her mouth with the leafy vegetable.

Arya did not care however or hesitate before she fired back. "I will not marry that little shit. I won't marry anyone and especially not someone like him. We've just found each other again and you want to send me away?"

"No, not now or anytime soon. But whose to say how you'll feel about that in two or three years. You're only two years younger than me and I was already married when I was your age. I'm just saying it's never too early to look towards the future. Edric could be the Lord of Storm's End one day and you could be his wife."

"I don't care if he'll be the next King of the Seven bloody Kingdoms, I still won't marry him." Arya was on fire and Sansa knew she was just being childish, but without another word Arya stood from the table and nearly knocked Sansa's cup of wine over when her knee hit the table. "I'm going to get some air." Arya exclaimed as she paced away and towards the exit.

Sansa's eyes followed her sister as she walked away and when she passed by someone who Sansa did not want to see. And that someone was walking squarely towards her. "I hope your sister doesn't go too far, she's only just returned from the dead." Tyrion japed as he stopped in front of the dinner table which nearly reached his head in height.

"Hello, Lord Tyrion." She did not want to see him either because she knew he saw Harry just as well as she did. "Arya just needed some air." But Sansa could be polite to him if he kept his tongue in due check.

"It was getting a little stuffy in here that's true. A little cramped perhaps too, I swear we fit far too many people in here. Close quarters being as snug as they are lead to many uncomfortable moments and accidental touches." Tyrion was slightly drunk, she could tell just by the way his hands steadied himself on the table. He was trying to relief her feelings however and she was thankful for it, despite how clumsy the attempt was.

Before Sansa could reply, she saw Harry walking back up the steps and into his seat next to her. "Hello there, Lord Tyrion. I hope you're enjoying my wedding."

Tyrion lightly and respectfully chuckled. "Oh I am, for as long as the wine keeps flowing I will continue enjoying it." Harry shared his own laughter in the mix and raised his empty cup to that. "It seems you are running dry ... well no man should find himself with an empty cup on his wedding night." Tyrion then spun around from them and called out for a refill. To Sansa's extreme dismay it was the cow who had filled it earlier, but as she attempted to fill the goblet, Tyrion stopped her. "You can hand that to me, my dear. I'm sure we will need more than one refill at this table." The cow did not hesitate and handed Tyrion the pitcher. He tried not to show his struggle with it's weight when he refilled Harry's cup. When he was done, both men raised their goblets and clinked them together. "To true and faithful love." Tyrion cheered and Harry shared it with him.

"It will be your turn soon no doubt. I'm sure many blushing maids will jump at the opportunity to marry the Lord of Casterly Rock." Harry exclaimed as he slurped down another cup of wine. His doublet of light blue velvet had long been ruined sometime earlier as the deep red stains were very evident. Not that it mattered, as traditionally the wedding garments were ripped and torn before the bedding ceremony.

Her former husband however found more humor in that than Harry did when his head fell back and he let out a loud and obviously forced laugh. "I hope so, though hopefully not so beautiful as your own wife."

Harry's face scrunched up in confusion and Sansa knew he was playing right into Tyrion's next jape. "Why would that be? Wouldn't any man want the most beautiful woman they could get?"

"Well, so you see me yourself. Would you really wish any woman to have to lay with me? Sansa suffered me more than she should have when we were married and I never even consummated the marriage. It was time however that she found a man who was worthy of her and one that actually gave her excitement at the prospect of child making."

Sansa felt her cheeks redden while Harry exploded in laughter and clutched at his sides. "Thank you for the praise, Lord Tyrion." Sansa then felt Harry's fingers lace through her own under the table.

"Look at that!" Exclaimed a loud male voice in the back of the room and soon after the entire floor cleared. But what they moved for Sansa could not believe her eyes as it looked to be a giant square cake that smelled of a lemon grove. Right behind it was a round pie of cream topped with dozens of different fruits all organized in great patterns playing out some story.

Tyrion turned and smiled as they brought the deserts closer to the head table. "Compliments of King Aegon and myself. A lemon cake and fruit tart, lemon for the Lady Arryn and the tart for the Lord Arryn ... your favorites respectively." From the sizes of them there would be much more than Harry or Sansa themselves could eat in a year. With that said and done, Tyrion excused himself and gave a polite nod to Arya as she passed by him and took her seat next to Sansa.

Sansa did not ask Arya where she went and she in turn did not tell her. So they both ate their deserts in peace and it was a while later before Sansa saw the Dragon King walk back through the doors. He looked harried and slightly aggravated and Sansa was happy for it after how rude and awful he was to her on her wedding. He politely shuffled his way through the crowd and gave a knowing look to her great uncle Brynden and then to her Harry. "My Lords ... and my Ladies." Aegon's voice rose above all other chatter as he climbed the steps up to the front table. "We've had much fun, and we've eaten great foods on this night." The crowd cheered their agreement like the crows they were before him. "And we've seen true love and passion between these two." Aegon's voice softened when he looked back at Harry and Sansa both. After giving her one last patronizing smile that attempted to mask as friendly, he turned back to the crowd and announced. "So I think the time is right ..." Aegon paused to the growing anticipation of every man and women in the great hall like the manipulator he was. "Let us bed them." With a great cheer many men and women stood from their tables and flocked to the front of the room to the head table, while Collio started singing 'the Queen took off her sandal, the King Took Of His Crown'.

The women had made it to Harry before the men had made it to Sansa and without great struggle they got him out of his seat and began funneling him through the room and out of the doors. Instead of letting her get to her own feet, the lecherous men simply hoisted her up on their shoulders and started carrying her away. "Show us what you got under there!" Enthused a man who holding her up, and soon after she heard a ripping noise and the skirts to her dress were torn off and fluttering through the air like a loose leaf. Sansa looked back to her mother and sister for any help, but Arya only looked on in surprise and her mother simply bowed her head and tried to give her a smile. She did notice however that Aegon still stood at the head of the table with silver goblet in hand and when their eyes met, he simply held the cup up to his lips before downing it.

It felt like chaos and madness and it was all terrifying and then horrifying while they carried her throughout the halls of Riverrun all while tearing at her pretty dress the entire way. "Open the front!" Cried some man who could not be bothered to do it or himself or was too far away. But his wishes were soon answered and Sansa felt the bodice of her dress give way with one tear and her breasts spilled out to a cry of joy from the revelers who all took on the faces of Petyr when she looked down at them. However she did notice one face which belonged to Edric and it hurt her even more when she felt him roughly pinch her nipple. Right after that she watched him being pulled from the crowd by her great uncle Brynden who tossed Edric roughly against the wall in retaliation and he slowly slumped down it.

After several more gropes and feels by the lecherous men which had reduced Sansa into a shivering and terrified mess. They entered into the bedding chamber and the men dumped her onto the bed. "Leave some of her for me you damn vultures, she is my wife after all!" Harry screamed at them in jesting fashion, but all the same they listened to him and Sansa only felt three more feels on her breasts before the men shuffled out of the bedchamber.

When Sansa finally worked up the courage to open her eyes and look around the room, she saw Harry standing at the end of the bed like some sort of God. He was already stripped naked and not even a shred of clothing remained on him, whether the girls did all the work or Harry did it himself Sansa did not know or care. He was hard and stuck out straight like an arrow and it looked thick with a head that resembled a mushroom she thought. "I suppose it's time." Sansa managed to croak out over her trepidation and fear of his nether region.

Harry nodded and slowly climbed up the foot of the bed like a hunched over feline. When he reached her stomach he made tracts with his wet kisses until he reached her breasts. "You are incredible, no man should be so lucky to have you."

Sansa's cheeks felt on fire and she wrapped her fingers between his sandy haired locks. "You are though, you're the one I want and my husband too. So don't hesitate and release your desires." Sansa knew that it was what Harry was waiting for, which was her permission. Without another word from him, his lips wrapped around her nipple and she felt his tongue lavishing it like a babe would. Though Harry was no babe, but a man full grown whose other hand had slid down to her wetness and his fingers teased her lips until she felt one slide between them. "Oh ... oh ... Harry ..." Her words were coarse and barely registered with her mind before they left her throat.

"You don't need to stop yourself, let me hear you voice and how much you love it." Harry said as he released her nipple and then after he said it they returned to the other nipple this time and it pebbled under his skillful licks. Sansa did just as he desired though in the back of her mind it embarrassed her that someone could be listening on the other side of those two doors and listening. He played with her and her body for what felt like hours if not days. When he finally relented his assault of her, he scooted up the bed on his knees and was kneeling between her open legs and he was just as hard as before if not more as impossible as that seemed. "Sansa, this will hurt-"

"I know, I learned all of this from my septa. Now please just be gentle and go on with it." Sansa did not want him to go on and speak of how many other girls he had broken before her and how he knew what he was doing. And of how he came to learn all of his skills that he had just demonstrated on her. Harry did not even try to argue and the smile on his face was the best she had ever seen and she reached up to him to embrace before he continued.

Unfortunately he did not see her reaching for him before he lined himself up and pushed forward. It felt numb to Sansa at first when she felt herself stretch around him, but soon after it was nothing but pain when she felt herself tear down there. Sansa had tried to grip the sheets to steady herself in the face of the pain, but they gave her no comfort and it was out of her control when she felt her body tense up and halt Harry's movements. "Are you alright?" Harry asked as she felt him pause in motion. Sansa wanted to tell him everything was fine and then she wanted to tell him to stop. But in the end her throat seized up and all she could do was nod her confirmation to move on. "You feel so good around me." Harry moaned with shut eyes as he forced himself further inside of her despite her bodies resistance.

It only took several more agonizing seconds before she felt their pelvises meet and when they did Sansa felt like he was inside of her tummy. Harry waited to the count of five before he hunched completely over her and he held himself up with his two hands which were on both sides of her head. Sansa tightly gripped his wrists and she felt her nails dig into him as he slowly pulled out and pushed back inside of her which elicited a moan of half pain and half pleasure from her and Harry's lips.

Sansa did not know how long it went on as she thought of how long the coming war would take and of what she would name their children, but she knew that her body felt numb by the time Harry finished and slammed his hips against her's which felt like it caused a bruise. His face scrunched up into something silly that she had never seen before and soon after she felt a warmth which she knew was his seed that traveled from him to her. Harry let out a loud moan and purr of satisfaction before he collapsed next her. "How was it for you?" Harry asked her with an honestly smug smile on his face.

"It was different from what I expected was all." Sansa called on all of her strength and craned her neck up to look at the small red splotch on the white linen. After she saw it, her strength left her and she let her head fall back onto the bed. "Did you enjoy it?" She asked him meekly and when she did so she could scarcely believe those words had left her lips.

Harry let out another loud, but more tired chuckle and nodded his head. "Aye, what man wouldn't?" His hand went to her head and it was then that she realized her hair had become disheveled and fallen out of the style her handmaidens had worked so hard on. Harry just smoothed her long auburn hair and then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and his lips felt wet. "The King told me that we would conceive tonight."

That was the one thing that ruined this moment for Sansa, bringing up his name. "What would he know of it?"

"The smallfolk say he is the messenger of the Seven, and he told me that they told him you would conceive on this very night." Harry sounded so sure and foolish, but Sansa could not bring herself to dash his hopes on the off chance they actually did.

It frightened Sansa that in a few moons time she could be a mother, it also what was expected of her. Even more so now that she was married to Harry who was already a man of proven fertility, though her mother had assured her that she would not fail in her duty. Sansa tried to take comfort in the thought that her mother had brought five healthy children into the world and most were boys, which would prove to give Harry no shortage of joy since he only had bastard daughters. "Well I pray he is right." But Sansa hoped he wasn't, at least not yet. She truly wished to be at least seven and ten like her mother was when she birthed Robb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment telling me so. And if you had problems with this chapter tell me or I'll never know how to improve.


	41. The Wolf's Refuge

Jon:

 

The ride back to Winterfell had been long and hard. Jon was sure that his horse would have died several times during the ride, but against his assumptions it held on and he could see the gates of Winterfell in the far distance. He knew that the horse was chosen especially for this task because of it's toughness and it led more credence to the nagging idea in his head, that Lord Wyman was honest in the end. He had left his cloak back in his room when Wylla Manderly had led him away and he wished he would have had the foresight to remember it. As Jon had thought the frost would kill him during several cold and windy nights during the ride.

Jon could see the rebuilding had already begun of the Winter town, which was another thing to blame on the monster Ramsay Snow. If rumors were to be believed he did it simply to satisfy his own sick craving for murder. Jon still felt the same old pang in his chest when he remembered how it looked buried under all the snow and devoid of any life when they snuck into the castle. His father used to say that it was easily one of the most populous settlements in the North during the autumn and winter, and Jon hoped it would be again soon.

But as Winterfell got bigger and bigger he realized that the smoke billowing out of it was far too big to be from simple hearth fires. "Faster!" Jon demanded as he took the reins of the horse and kicked it into an even faster speed. Several of Stannis' soldiers and other northman gave him strange looks as he passed by them in full ride, but they didn't seem too interested as they went back to their shoveling of Winter town soon thereafter.

"Stop right there!" Exclaimed a ring mailed gate guard who wore the fiery stag of Stannis Baratheon on his chest.

Jon's horse came to a skidding halt before the shut gates and he called out impatiently. "I'm Jon Stark, the lord of this castle. Now open these bloody gates!" Jon realized then how weak and hoarse his voice was, but he knew it could not be helped as his water had spilled the day before and he could not stop to find more.

When he said it a familiar and dark haired head poked over the battlements. "Jon, you're back! Open up the gates you fools, that's Lord Stark." Donnel Flint's admission seemed to kick Stannis' soldiers into movement then and soon after the monstrous iron gate slowly creaked open and allowed him entrance into his castle.

After riding into the the castle Jon looked around and saw the source of the smoke was coming from the sept his father had built for Lady Catelyn. "What's going on over there?" Jon asked as a stable master took the reins from him.

The stable master looked at what Jon was talking about and explained. "The red priestess Melisandre arrived days ago along with the Queen and Princess. When they saw the sept, they wanted to burn it to protect themselves from the cold and as an offering."

Jon stepped down from the horse and looked around the empty yard. "Where is everyone?"

Before the stable master could answer, Donnel Flint ran over to Jon with his hand axe clattering behind him. "Thank the Gods you're back. When you didn't send word of your arrival, the Lords got nervous." Donnel then looked up and down Jon and his state of dress. "A little cold for a simple leather jerkin and breeches, init?"

"It's a long story, but where is everyone?" Jon knew he would have to explain, but he wanted it to be in front of everyone when he did.

Donnel pointed over to the Great Hall and answered. "King Stannis called court, and the Greatjon Umber has returned from down south along with Lady Mormont and the Lord Glover who both came from the Neck and who have brought word from Lord Howland Reed." Jon did not wait any longer and pushed past Black Donnel with his destination in mind. The heir of the mountain Flints ran along to keep up with Jon's set pace. "You should have seen the fire they started inside of that sept, it rose over the walls at one point I swear. That mustached man they call a Queen wanted to move onto burning the godswood after that, but King Stannis denied her request. Not that he really had much of a choice, Alysane Mormont said she'd rather die than let that happen."

 _Thank her then, if they went through with it not even I could have saved Stannis from the other northmen. Or if I even would want to._ "How's Val been? Has she caused any problems?"

"There was one problem when Ser Godry and others who followed him wanted to collect the fallen weirwood branches and burn them. But in the end they backed down and Val collected them all herself so they couldn't sneak back and get them."

"Was that all?" Jon was mildly surprised that it was all for he expected at the very least some broken teeth, noses, and maybe a missing finger or two.

Black Donnel nodded his head and rushed in front of Jon to open the door for him. "Aye, she goes to the godswood and prays for a bit. Then she goes back to your chambers and keeps that impostor girl company. Don't know what that girl's defect is, cause she will just randomly start bawling for no reasons."

 _Ramsay is her problem. And will be for the rest of her days most like._  "You be sure to leave Jeyne alone.She's suffered worse than any girl ever should." And how she suffered, it weighed on Jon's mind every time he looked at her or thought of her. He saw glimpses of the same girl who used to gossip and giggle with Sansa all those years ago, though it was hard and the moments were always fleeting. Jon only remembered speaking to her on a handful of times back then and most were not pleasant memories and the stories Arya had told him of her name calling never improved his disposition of her. Val had told him of the welts and scars all over her back and of the heinous things Ramsay had done to her that made his skin crawl and then it made him angry.

"Fuck your fire!" Roared a voice that nearly shook the foundations of the Great Hall. "Where is the bastard? Come out of hiding you fucking oathbreaker!"

Donnel stiffened up and moved in close to Jon and whispered. "That's the Greatjon."

Several of Stannis soldiers were guarding the doors to the hall and when they saw Jon they stood from the way without word. As Jon pushed his way through the doors, all eyes in the hall traveled to him, some familiar and friendly, while others familiar and unfriendly, but several were unknown to him. "I suppose you're looking for me, Lord Umber."

And if ever a name fit so well it was the Greatjon's. The man stood nearly seven feet tall and looked like he weighed twenty stone and all of it solid muscle. Even though his long beard and hair had several large streaks of grey, he still looked like he was as fit and strong as someone half of his age. "Scrawny little man aren't you? Hope I didn't wake you from your slumber, though I bet that wildling woman of yours kept you warm."

"Lord Umber, please calm down." Begged a short and squat woman with all grey hair who stood next to the she-bear Alysane Mormont along with two other girls who looked similar to her, but were taller and slimmer though both were still strong looking. "There are better places and times to air your grievances."

The Greatjon did not look like he felt the same way, but he heeded her all the same and turned back to Stannis; who sat silently grinding his teeth and digging his fists into the chair's arms. "Now that he's here like you wanted, I'll keep to my reason for being here." The Greatjon then turned to the other northern Lords. "Did you all forget what we all swore before we followed King Robb down south? We would never allow the southern yoke to touch our backs again, and what do I find after I fought tooth and bloody nail to get back home? All of you are bowing to a fucking southron King again!"

"King Robb is dead, Lord Umber. Most of the Stark children have followed him to the grave as well. All we have left now is Lord Jon after we learned of the Bolton's deceit, and he's stated his stance of bowing to King Stannis. We follow our Starks, just like you yourself swore to." Exclaimed Arson Hare, who if Donnel was correct wanted to find his way to Jon's good side. As Arson's grandmother was a Dustin and he himself hoped to receive Barrowton through his blood and take the name Dustin as his own.

"He's a fucking oathbreaker, who left his post on the Wall and married a wildling. He's no Stark in anything, but name. And that's only because this King legitimized him." The Greatjon then turned to Arson who was much smaller than the giant of a man and the Greatjon looked down at him as if he was just dung underfoot. "Now sit down and shut your mouth before I squeeze you dry like a bloody cut of meat."

"You were in King Robb's tent the same as me, and you heard his will of legitimizing Jon as a true Stark." Exclaimed the squat grey haired woman to Jon's shock. "It was his will for Jon to lead the Starks if the unthinkable happened ... which did sadly come to pass in the end."

The Greatjon stomped his foot and the sound carried far around the room. "Don't you dare try tell me what happened, Lady Mormont. I was there and I saw the crossbolts that pierced our King. I watched my son die protecting our King and I saw your daughter Dacey doing the same." The Greatjon turned back to Stannis and the King's guards tensed up when he did so. "The south is aflame and the southerners rush to this new Dragon King. The very same one who helped me escape my imprisonment in the Twins. What's more is that fact that the real Starks still live in Sansa Stark."

"Sansa Stark is now Sansa Lannister and is married to Tyrion Lannister." Stannis explained to the Greatjon.

The giant of a man turned to Jon then. "She's not, I saw her with my own two eyes. What's more is that Catelyn Stark is alive too." The Greatjon walked close to him and Jon prepared himself to defend against the much bigger man. "She's really hoping to see you boy, the bastard who's stolen his true brother's and sister's rightful inheritance."

It was her name again, Lord Wyman had warned Jon about a Hangwoman in the Riverlands who resembled Lady Stark.  _And now the Greatjon claims to have seen her with his own two eyes._ Jon stepped passed the Greatjon and moved near Stannis. "Your Grace, we need to speak privately."

Stannis' eyes squinted in confusion, but all the same he shook his head and denied his request. "We can talk later ... and you can explain to me the reason for your state of undress, Lord Stark." Stannis motioned for Jon to get from the way and he addressed the Greatjon again. "You've brought rumors and stories to my court and I've heard them just like I said I would. Now, your family has sworn itself to my cause and we-"

"No, my uncles who had no right or authority swore themselves to you. I on the other hand haven't sworn a fucking thing, but this. I will never rest or surrender until we are ruled by the Starks again, either it be a King in the North or a Queen. So you can take your red rahloo and bloody bugger yourselfs with all it gives you, for I'm going back home to wait out this winter or for the return of the real wolfs." The Greatjon looked back at his uncles and spat out a red colored ball of saliva in their direction. "And I'm taking my men and people back with me. You two can make your choice, but make it soon. My patience isn't large if you remember." As the Greatjon turned to the doorway all in front of him scattered from the hulking man. "Though before I go," The Greatjon reached into his boot and pulled out two enclosed letters. "I made a promise to deliver these." Jon reached out and took the two letters, and on them was a red wax seal of a dragon.

Jon looked them both over and the names that they were addressed to.  _Jon Snow; bastard of the North, usurper of Winterfell, and oathbreaker._ Regardless of how many times Jon heard it, the name never failed to harm him. Jon then looked over the second letter and read it.  _Stannis Baratheon; false king and pretender to MY throne._ Without another pause Jon handed the letter up to Stannis and the Baratheon gave it one looked before handing it off to Godry Farring. "Aren't you going to read it?" Jon asked.

Stannis shook his head. "Lady Mormont and Lord Glover. You've come bearing word from Howland Reed, so let's hear it." Jon could tell just from how Stannis held his head that he was furious over the Greatjon's outburst or the letter. Or maybe both.

The squat woman Jon saw before was in fact Maege Mormont the mistress of Bear Island and she along with an average looking man with greying light brown hair stepped forward. "Lord Howland received the news of your cause and successes, and he is actively working on ridding the Neck of all the Ironborn. But he holds the same stance incidentally that the Lord Umber does. He will not pledge himself to you and he will wait for the return of the wolfs."

"And what does that mean? You have your wolf and your Stark right here. He was Eddard Stark's bastard, and now that he is legitimized he is a trueborn son of the North." Stannis argued back and some of the northern Lords even vocally agreed with that.

Lord Glover folded his hands together and stared down as his feet, seemingly unable to look Stannis directly in his eyes. "I don't know, your Grace. But he did give us his own message for Lord Jon."

"And what is that?" Jon asked. He had never personally seen Lord Howland himself, but his father always counted him amongst his best friends from Robert's Rebellion.

The master of Deepwood Motte looked to Lady Mormont for assistance and she said in the man's place. "He's asked that you come meet with him at Greywater Watch. He has your father's bones and he thinks it best that you come and retrieve them yourself."

"Could he not have sent them with you?" The matriarch of house Mormont shook her head. Jon turned to Stannis and he wished he would dismiss the court, but he had no choice and needed to tell him here and now. "You asked why I was dressed as such, it was because I had barely escaped capture. Lord Manderly has proven himself false and saw fit to try to capture me."

A gasp of shock went through the court and Black Donnel Flint asked. "What happened to Lawrence and Willum?"

"They were all captured and I only escaped through sheer luck. But ... that's why I need to speak to your privately, your Grace. I've learned some very disturbing news." Jon knew that the other northerners would resent him for trying to keep anything from them, but it would not serve for them to know of Rickon being alive yet or chaos would follow. It could unravel all of their work at uniting the Wildlings and Northmen to defend against the Others and Jon would not let that happen.

Stannis Baratheon seemed to be interested in what he could possibly mean, or he was just angry that Jon was being so elusive. His face just gave away so little of his true thoughts. "Whatever you need to say can be said here, Lord Stark."

All faces in the room were on Jon and they were all eager for what Jon wished to hide from them. "Lord Manderly is in negotiation with Aegon Targaryen, and from what I overheard they plan to use White Harbor as a staging point to seize the North." As he said it, a large uproar went throughout the room. "We need to march out and seize White Harbor before the southerners overwhelm us."

"Are you sure of that? Our original plan was to march on Torrhen's Square and finally rid it of the Ironborn. The Tallharts are still held captive there and need to be freed." Stannis ground his jaw at this news and he wished that it was not necessary. With a simple and solemn nod from Jon, The Baratheon King sighed loudly and spoke to Ser Godry Farring. "Ser Godry, I charge you with organizing whatever men you can find, be they Wildlings or Northmen. You and Lord Stark will set out within the next few days and take White Harbor." The Giantslayer bowed before Stannis and agreed wholeheartedly before exiting from the hall. Stannis then stood up from his seat and dismissed the court.

Donnel Flint ran to Jon's side and tried to gain more details of what had happened at White Harbor, but he denied him for now and asked. "Do you know where Val is?"

"Aye, she should be in the Godswood." Jon did not waste anytime turning toward the godswood. Donnel Flint however still had things to say and followed after Jon like he so excelled at. "You missed so much while you were gone."

Jon pushed his way through the doors of the Great Hall and back out into the cold northern air. "Like what exactly?" The yard was much fuller now that the court had been dismissed and the usual bustle was back in full swing.

"Asha Greyjoy is pregnant."

His words served to give Jon extreme pause and he had to stop and look over at the heir of the mountain Flints to see if there was any jest in his eyes. "How far is she along?" Jon asked as he started walking again.

He chuckled and drew close to Jon and said in a hush. "I'm not sure, but she's showing. I think the King is trying to keep it secret, cause I hadn't heard anyone mention it and he did move her from the dungeons into the castle."

 _She's been a prisoner for nearly three moons, it could have happened before the battle._ Jon tried to shake it out of his mind as it was none of his business. "If you're right then be sure to keep that information to yourself." But Jon still decided he would speak on it with the she-ear when he found the time. "Is that all?"

Unfortunately the Flint heir shook his head and saw fit to not whisper this time. "No, if that red priestess woman is not telling fibs then apparently that impostor girl is pregnant. With Ramsay Snow's child it would seem."

That served to spin Jon's stomach and the grim face of Ramsay floated through his head before the memories of Jeyne and Sansa giggling took it's place. "Then I'll pray to the Gods every night that she is wrong. I couldn't wish something worse on her than that monster's child." As much as the reality pained him to confront, Jon thanked the Gods that it was not Arya who the Boltons actually had.  _Some fates are worse than death, and that is one of them._ Jon began getting closer to the small wooden gate of the Godswood and he stopped in front of Black Donnel. "I would like to speak with my wife alone, no insult intended Donnel."

"Oh, go ahead. I suppose I should go and prepare myself for the march to White Harbor." He had no intention of taking Donnel Flint with him as he still wanted someone to be left with Val and be his eyes and ears while he was away.

The snow in the Godswood had been piled around the edges of the walls and nearly climbed half of it's impressive seventy foot height. The path to the heart tree had a trail of human boot prints followed behind by animal prints and Jon knew they were here. Val's honey blond hair was separated into two braids behind her head and she wore so much white she almost could have blended into the snow around her if not for him knowing where she was. Curled beside her legs was Ghost who lifted his head to look at the intruder and when he saw it was Jon, the white direwolf padded over to him. "I missed you, boy." Jon admitted while he ruffled the fur under Ghost's neck.

"You're back," Val said quietly while she continued praying under the weirwood.

Jon walked over to her and kneeled in the snow behind her. "And I missed you the most." Jon then wrapped his arms around Val and planted light kisses on the back of her neck that made her loosen up in his arms. "What are you praying for?" He asked as he laid his cheek against the back of her warm neck.

"That what they say about Jeyne isn't true." Her words stuck into Jon's heart like a knife and he himself prayed the same. "She suffered such unspeakable things, even we had monsters that claimed to be men on the other side of the Wall. But the things that he did to her were something more ... and her being forced to keep his child is even worse." Val's gloved hands slowly slid off the white trunk of the weirwood and they closed around Jon's own ungloved hands. "We have to help her. She used to live here with you as a child and you owe her that kindness. She told me of how her father died down south serving your father."

Jon gripped her tightly and nodded his head. "She can stay here forever if she wishes, I won't turn her out and into the cold. But tell me, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Jon. I'm not some gentle little wallflower like those other girls you knew. I won't shrivel up and die while you're away." Val got off her knees and turned into Jon's embrace. "Though I was irritated when you said you were leaving me behind."

Jon chuckled and put his forehead against her's and stared into her pale gray eyes. "Aye, I remember. I'm sure I still have the bruises you gave me that night."

Val's hands enveloped the sides of his face and she deeply kissed him and tasted of blackberries. "I made it up to you after didn't I?" And so she did, Jon still fondly remembered how many times they were together the night before he left. "I just feel like we have to protect her." Her face then softened up and Jon could see the pain it gave her to think of Jeyne Poole. "It's just ... I had it in my head that she would be my goodsister. In truth I'm happy it wasn't truly your sister that suffered in that monster's hands and I know it might be foolish, but I feel like she is regardless."

"I know, I know." Jon hugged her tightly to his chest and he felt the strength leave her body. "I'm going to take Ramsay's head myself and then his father's soon after. She won't have to fear him any longer."

"Good, but what will you do with that Reek creature?" Val asked as she pulled her head from his chest and locked eyes with him.

Jon did not truly know his own answer on that matter. In truth he felt she was right about him no longer being a person, after all he had done to his family. Though when he looked at what used to be Theon he felt sad that this is what became of him. But Jon knew he the time was fast approaching for Theon's mercy and he needed to figure out what he knew of Bran and Rickon and why he lied. "Grant him mercy like his sister wanted for him."

"And will that be before a heart tree ... or in the fire?" Val's voice cut through Jon's mind and he cursed how she picked his words for all their meanings.

He knew his answer would not please her, but he could not lie to her. "That's King Stannis' decision not mine. If he asks me I will suggest the former. No one deserves to be burned alive."

"Ramsay does, he deserves that." Val was right and Jon wanted the same thing for the bastard though it was not the Northern or his father's way.

The day from then on had been arduous and Jon was forced to relay everything that he had learned of White Harbor to Godry Farring, though Jon kept his own secrets that the Giantslayer did not need to know. Supper had been a quick and quiet affair between Jon, Val,  and Jeyne. The once chatty and gossipy girl was forever lost it seemed as she only spoke when spoken to and always asked permission for every bite she took. And the more the night went on the more Jon wanted to pay Ramsay a visit later. Val had escorted Jeyne to her room and stayed with her for nearly two hours by Jon's count and when she finally came back to their chambers she had with her two large buckets of snow which she planned to heat for their bath. Jon had been eager to join her, but when he stripped off his jerkin he remembered the letter he had recieved.

"Are you coming?" Val asked him after he sat down at the table in the corner of their room.

Jon stared at the red wax of the seal and slowly shook his head. "You go ahead, I'll be there after I finish reading these." Jon did not want to stay, but it nagged on his mind of what it could possibly say. Val did not argue twice and left the sitting room and Jon alone. His knife slipped through the paper quickly and tore through the wax seal. After pouring out the paper envelope he realized it had more than one letter. The top had 'Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of his name' written in a splotchy red ink. The second had no name, so Jon opened the first and left the second for later.

_To Lord Jon of House Stark; Bastard of the North, Usurper of Winterfell, and Oathbreaker. My Lord, it is with great pleasure that I write to you now. I find myself in the position of calling your perceived bluff of being the last living Stark a falsehood and a gross lie at that. You claim and boast to all that will listen that you left your oath due to the believe that you were the only Stark left and to save your false sister, but can you truly claim that true? I've wondered of your true character many a times, I admit in the recent of times. Your brother's former bannermen have told me stories of how he wished for you to be his true heir if he did not conceive an heir and of how you were the most Stark of all Lord Eddard Stark's children. Yet I wonder how that could possibly be true. As a boy I once held severe hatred for those involved in my families disposal, banishment, and murder. But as time went on and I learned the true history of how it came to be, my feelings changed._

_I read of how my father kidnapped Lyanna Stark after the tourney at Harrenhal and of how her older brother did what any real brother in his place should do and that was to get her back. Similar to what you did I admit, except you saved a fake. But I digress, as come the end of the war when Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister plotted together to kill my mother, my sister, and what would have been me. Not many truly raised objections. I've heard many thought it was a vile act, but they sat by and watched all the same. Except for your father ... he deemed it a criminal act and for that I've shown and will continue to show complete mercy to his children and family._

_So I come to the true point of this letter, Lord Stark. I offer you this one chance, throw yourself before me and convince the other northern Lords to do the same. For after I deal with King's Landing, I'm coming north to deal with the false King and all those who stand with him. If you refuse my generous offer I will not hold it against you, but I will warn you that you will be homeless. For the TRUE heir of the North; Rickon Stark will receive what should be and rightfully is his. If you cannot force yourself to turn on your false King then I suggest you flee back over the Wall and live out the rest of your days with you wife, for you will find no solace on this side. But, come to me and allow me to return Rickon to his rightful place and I swear to every God there is that I will find you a castle and lordship worthy of a Stark of Winterfell for your surely growing family. Don't write me your response, simply think it over many times and make your mind certain. When I come North you can give me your answer in your own words and say it to my face._

_By my hand and seal, King Aegon Targaryen._ And in another neater hand was scribbled beside it was.  _The Reclaimer._

"Bloody well laid it all out for me." Jon didn't know what to think of the letter besides for one thing, and that is he wouldn't be betraying Stannis. Jon set the letter down carefully on the table and he knew he would be rereading it several times before the night ended. "Now what is this about?" Jon said aloud as he unfolded the second letter and read the signature which to his horror simply read. _Catelyn Stark._ It made his heartbeat run faster and so hard he was sure it would burst through his chest.

"Jon, come quick!" Val screamed out. Without falter, Jon threw himself from the chair and ran into the next room. What he saw however was anything, but awful or terrible. "You took too long." Val exclaimed in a low and sultry tone while she sat on the edge of the steaming tub of water. "Do you want to know what else I prayed for in the Godswood?" Jon's throat was beginning to dry as he stared at Val's round and full bosom. All he could do was nod while he fumbled with the laces of his breeches. "I prayed for a child." It was all Jon could do not to toss himself at her.

In the end he simply tore his breeches off of his hips with all of his strength when he could undo the laces. "Yes, but the Gods alone can't give us that." Val's pink lips curved into a smile and she licked her white teeth in anticipation. Jon stepped between her legs and he felt his manhood poking against her wetness. "I love you."

Val quickly wrapped her legs around his lower back and pulled him into the tub which splashed a good deal of the water everywhere. After they both came back up for air, Val's lips mashed against his and he felt her tongue probing his closed lips which didn't restrict her access for much longer. "Come, return to me. Don't make me wait, Jon Stark. Give me what we promised we would have." It was fast and frantic and when Jon felt himself enter inside of her he moaned in pleasure. "Don't hesitate, we have all night and morn if you're up for it."

She did well to put his mind solely on her, but in the back of his mind all he could think of was that damned letter and of the dead woman who seems to have risen again solely for his blood. It addressed him in only one name and the only name she ever had for him. _Snow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment telling me so. And if you had problems with this chapter tell me or I'll never know how to improve.


	42. Northern Ambitions

Tyrion:

 

"I never got to hear that song you promised to write for the wedding." Tyrion complained while he nursed himself over a cup of blackberry wine. "Everyone was so excited to hear you sing and you let them down."

Aegon stood staring out the window with his hands resting against the rough stone sill. "I didn't want to make the maidens cry." Aegon said in a flat monotone that almost masked the jape hidden underneath. "And it's not the first time I've let people down and won't be the last."

Tyrion let loose a small chuckle and by the way Aegon's back arched over the window Tyrion was sure that he shared a small laugh himself. He glanced around the Kingspyre's solar and could not help, but marvel all over again by the size of it. He had heard rumors of it being as big as the halls of smaller castles, but it just did not fully prepare him. The room just seemed so large and empty and when they would speak a low echo would travel up the rafters and around the room. "All the same the wedding was still nice. Though many of the Lords ended up going home disappointed and their plans in shambles."

"Their arrogance needed to be put back in check if that's true. It disturbs me that men would push their daughters into seducing a man they don't know for uncertain rewards." It had made Aegon very uneasy and very uncomfortable having such attention on him. Bastards, even the fair and comely sorts never could dream of what Aegon was going through. And oddly enough for any man, but completely normal when it came to Aegon, he turned them all down and went to bed alone as he had his entire life. "Edric should be back by now."

"Don't worry, Pod's with him and he would never dare to doddle when doing his duty." Tyrion trusted Pod with his life and was certainly happy to have him instead of Bryce Cave who was now regulated to bath and clothing duties. While Pod handled the food and messages. "You know how Harrold is, he's probably hung over and is just having a slow morning."

Aegon's hands tightly gripped the discolored stone in anger, but his voice was ever the same. "That's no excuse. When I call for him I don't care if he's sleeping, shitting, eating, drinking, or fucking. He had better be here and in good time." None of the men would vocalize it, but sadly they both knew Harrold Arryn most likely was drunk and with a camp follower or whore at the moment.

He knew the old saying of how every man is a King at his own wedding, but what he did not know was that the day after they are prisoners of war. Because for the many words the Blackfish had for him on how a man should treat his wife it certainly seemed like he was just that. Added with the few calm words Aegon had given him were only the cream on the cake for Tyrion to hear. But even still the new Lord Arryn got out easier from the Blackfish then Edric had, as the old Tully knight had made Edric strip down to the nude and carry a yoke with two buckets of water and run it around Riverrun seven times. During that time while they watched the spectacle. Aegon had stopped watching halfway through the punishment, he had informed Tyrion that it was because Edric had groped Sansa during the bedding and the Blackfish had caught him.

Sansa had put on quite a face of smiles and joy the morning after the wedding while the inhabitants of Riverrun gave their farewells to the army and their King. But Tyrion knew that it was not wholly genuine and how could it be after what she suffered through the day before. Harrold had followed after them five days later and he tried to strike up an unsuccessful conversation with Aegon on bedding virgins, which proved most humorous for Tyrion to watch. To Aegon's credit he did not lash back at Harrold, which the Blackfish would have done if he was in earshot at the time.

"You should sit down and relax, you're always so tense and in such a rush. It's not as if we have anything to do today, besides wait." Tyrion felt uneasy when Aegon turned back and looked at him as if he was daft in the head.

But to Tyrion's surprise, Aegon's face turned to a smile and he sat down beside him. "Oh yes, I am quite an impatient person. So impatient that I waited nearly sixteen years to reveal myself, and in those sixteen years I listened to the masses curse and belittle my family and our history. And I watched as Robert Baratheon feasted and whored without a care in the world, the very same Robert who killed my father because he was mad he lost a woman who never loved him."

"I think he was mad that Prince Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark-"

Aegon let out a snicker of laughter. "Kidnapped? You don't believe that and I don't believe that, anyone who claims differently was delusional or simply wanted to please that fat oaf of a King."

Marwyn had warned Tyrion of this sore spot, but Tyrion knew it would need to be talked about eventually or Aegon would never move passed it. "You're right I don't, but it's a more convenient story in the end. I didn't know you held such resentment over it, it's not like you to hold actual grudges."

"It hurt ... I can admit that. When I first heard about it, I was only one and ten. I didn't understand why he would do something like that when he was already married and had children. Why he would pass over my mother to give his favor to another? Love ... always seemed such a scary prospect to me, still does. How many Kings have been destroyed by it I wonder?" Aegon reached out for Tyrion's cup of wine and held it under his nose and his face stiffened up. "Cost me my family and nearly my life, all because my father couldn't control himself. Do you disagree?"

He watched in shock as Aegon sipped the far too sweet wine. "I would agree, it has ruined many lives. But it's not as if men and women choose it for themselves, it just happens." Sometimes it scared Tyrion how little Aegon truly seemed to understand feelings. He knew how to play and manipulate people just fine, but he seemed to not actually grasp companionship and the concept of attachment. Tyrion knew Marwyn was to blame and he did not know if it would be a boon or hindrance to him. Marwyn had told Tyrion of how he would punish Aegon anytime he tried to call him father as a child.  _I'm not your father, Egg. Your real father died because of his stupidity and selfishness. He gave up everything because he thought he found a woman he loved and all it brought was death and destruction to the country._ Marwyn had said it with a sense of almost accomplishment in his voice, breaking a child's heart and hardening him far before his time and long before his actually manhood.

Aegon swished the contents of the goblet around before handing it back to Tyrion and spitting his mouthful out into his empty goblet. "That was awful." He then got out of his seat and paced back over to the window. "I suppose you must have had a love yourself once." Aegon's bandaged hand gripped hard on the stone and Tyrion saw his way out of this conversation he didn't want to be in any longer.

"It never does end well, but I do see that your hand is better." It had been during the wedding right after they had carried Sansa out of the feast that Tyrion noted Aegon's hand was split open again. When he had asked him of it, Aegon told him he had reopened the wound while dancing. Though Tyrion and him both know it was a feeble attempt at a lie, but Tyrion had no ground to stand on to call him out on it. But he was determined to figure out what Aegon and Marwyn were doing now. The archmaester had told him of magic being a handle-less sword, yet he seemed only too eager to use it without fear of consequence or care.

"Aye, I told you it was nothing to worry about. If I can stop fiddling with it, it should heal."

Tyrion agreed and exclaimed. "Now if we can just keep you away from that damned sculpture of obsidian that Marwyn continues to lug around, you should be fine." It was the biggest question that still remained in his mind. Why was it so warm that day and who were the voices from? What he did know beyond a doubt however, was that it scared him to no ends.

A false smile danced across Aegon's face, but before he could respond a knock rang on the door and soon it opened. "Sorry for being late, I was just reading a letter my wife sent me." Harrold apologized as he walked up to the table. Walking in behind him was Edric and behind him was Podrick who hung his head before Aegon.

"Your Grace." Tyrion corrected him quickly and without any softness to his tone.

Harrold turned to look at him and gave him a look of confusion. "Sorry?"

It was small groan of annoyance from him, but Aegon stepped into the conversation quickly. "It's not important, but next time you receive a letter just bring it with you. Because now you've made me wait and you have to tell us of the going on's there." Aegon moved to the pitcher of wine and poured Harrold a cup. "Edric, did you find any letters for myself?" The black haired Baratheon nodded and handed Aegon an enclosed letter that had the sun of Dorne in orange wax. Harrold waited silently while the King opened the letter and Aegon murmured. "Start talking, I can listen while I read."

The young Lord of the Vale gripped the edges of the letter tightly in his hand and started reading it out loud. "My wife Sansa wrote that the woman are all staying at Riverrun and are fine. Roslin Frey is happy and should be due any day now." That served to bring a smile to Aegon's lips. No doubt because he wished for his Tully to be safe and provide him even more credence to his claims of being a fair and just leader.

"Was that it?" Tyrion asked.

"Besides the expected well wishes and hopes for me to return soon, aye it was." Harrold looked down at the letter and handed it over to Tyrion. After glancing through the contents of the letter, he placed it back down and looked at Aegon who was reading his own letter. "What is it, your Grace?"

Aegon looked over the top of the letter at Harrold and his eyes glazed over for a moment before he folded it up and stuffed it into his belt. "My cousin Arianne Martell and her followers are a nearly a fortnight away." He then stood up and motioned to Edric.

Without word, Edric ran up the stairs to Aegon's bedchamber. "Is that not good news, your Grace?" Harrold asked as he was not privileged to the plan and did not understand what Aegon was getting at.

"Yes, very much so. Have you prepared your troops, Lord Arryn?" Tyrion knew that Aegon wanted to speak alone, but he would not force Harrold out of the room. So as always it came to the Hand of the King to do the dirty and unpleasant work.

Harrold nodded his head and explained. "They're ready to leave any day you need us to. Lord Royce has kept them all in good form and shape."

When Edric returned he did so with parchment, ink, quills, and he placed them down on the table before the King. After dipping the quill into the inkwell, Aegon looked up at Harry. "May you leave us, Lord Arryn?"

"But I just arrived." Harrold looked back and forth at Tyrion and then Aegon. Their faces showed no softness or jest, so he solemnly stood up and did as he was bid without a word of complaint. Tyrion knew in his heart and mind he was seething underneath his cool and aloof demeanor.

After the door shut closed, Aegon looked over at Edric. "What was he doing before you found him?"

"He was with some naked blonde woman in his room. I think the letter arrived the day before this one, because it was already open and on his desk when I arrived." Harrold and Edric seemed like they were friends to Tyrion. And in that fashion Harrold must have thought Edric would lie for him, which was a foolish mistake.

Tyrion shook his head and sighed. "What has it been, nine days since his wedding?"

"It's-it has been eight days, M'lord." Stuttered out Podrick who had silently found his way to Tyrion's side.

Aegon ground his teeth and tapped his right hand impatiently against the table. "Should we do something?"

"We should and I wish we could, but what can we do? He is the Lord of the Vale and he has the discretion to bed whores, camp followers, and miller's daughters if he wishes."  _Though he shouldn't and is a fool to do that to Sansa._ He wondered what possessed some men to do such things, Robert had similar inclinations though Tyrion always blamed it on Cersei being a cunt. But Sansa is everything any man would want in a wife, beautiful, clever, kind, and she knows how to play hearts and minds proficiently and she is still young and has time to learn the game further. Sometimes when he would see Harrold with another woman, he regretted ever letting the annulment stand. He sometimes briefly wondered if it would have been kinder trying to convince Aegon to marry her. She would not be able to bring them soldiers, but she would have been happier with someone faithful and would have been a good mother to his children. Though he did doubt either of them would have found love with each other in that circumstance. "But I will speak with him and tell him to be a bit more discrete."

"Good, I don't need the Riverlords to see my Lord of the Vale dishonoring his wife in such a fashion." Aegon seemed to have made up his mind as he began scratching the quill against the parchment. "The Martells are close, and they've brought two thousand men as a sign of good faith. Princess Arianne writes that they obliged to all of mydemands." When he said it, Tyrion paled and looked down into the murky contents of his cup. "So ... do tell me. What were my demands to the Martells?"

"I asked for them to appear in before us, and I asked for military support. But I was sure to leave off any talks of a marriage." The Martells did all that and he was happy that they obeyed his writings in Aegon's name so readily.

The King put his quill down and handed the letter over to Edric. "Copy the letter in your own handwriting and sign it as Gerold Flowers, then bring it to archmaester Marwyn and tell him to send it to Highgarden." Edric bowed his head and did as he was bid, leaving Aegon, Tyrion, and Podrick in the over sized solar. "You trust him don't you?" Aegon asked as he looked over at Podrick who paled under Aegon's stern eyes.

Tyrion smiled and patted Pod on the shoulder. "With my life, if I can't trust him then I can't trust anyone." Tyrion spoke the truth and he was determined to find Pod a lordship when the war was over for all of his loyalty. The boy's confidence had grown and he seemed much more competent when dealing with others and Tyrion thanked Lady Brienne for teaching him that. But he cursed Mother Merciless every time he looked at the abrasions on Pod's neck which was caused by the noose that they kept around his neck for weeks.

"The letter is being sent to Willas and I've laid it out for him. Either turn for me now, or all deals are off the table and his sister will never be Queen. I've waited quite long enough for them and now they are the only one's south of the Neck who haven't chosen their side." He thought it was time Aegon came to his senses and that the Tyrells like the roses they take for their sigil only go where they wind pushes them. He knew that Lady Margaery would most likely be a better Queen than Princess Arianne could possibly hope to be if the rumors of her were true, but winning in the end is more important than the woman beside the true power.

"Are you ready to meet Princess Arianne? I've heard she is quite beautiful and exotic." Tyrion had heard quite a bit more then that too, but it had no place to be brought up here.

Aegon let out a rare genuine smile and folded his arms behind his head. "Marwyn told me she's bedded half of Sunspear. He also told me that she's known her way around a bed since she was fourteen and has no real inclination of what actual planning and intelligence is." Aegon looked over at Pod and asked him. "Tell me, Podrick, doesn't that sound exactly like me?"

Pod let out a small smile and shook his head. Tyrion knew what game Aegon was playing and he decided to oblige him this time. "You don't marry someone like yourself, or even someone you like. You marry them for their family name and what they can bring you. Weren't you just telling me that you aren't interested in love or affection?"

"Aye, I was. But it might be better to keep Lord Arryn away from my cousin Arianne, just in case of course." It was jape, a rather cruel one if you were Sansa, Tyrion thought.

He however knew there would be no risk of that. Arianne Martell would not be able to see any man other then Aegon when she arrived. Most women could not even find their tongues when he would look at them and they knew they had no chance with him, but Arianne on the other hand will know she is one of the only few who does. And sadly Tyrion could tell that Aegon was nervous about the meeting and that simply would not do. "You're the King, what woman would pass you up for another?" That seemed to reassure Aegon slightly, but he still held doubt beneath his amiable smile.

They had spoken on it for several more minutes and then after Edric returned, Aegon and his squire left for a ride around the hills. Tyrion and Pod left when they did and the day from there was filled with tedious talks and negotiations over spits of land so small you could barely build a farmstead on them. The men who wanted bigger lordships like Harrenhal and Darry, were the worst of all. It did not matter how many times Aegon or Tyrion told them no, they still came nipping on their heels. There was an issue not two days ago when Ser Bryce Brune nearly killed the young Lord Dedding's younger brother who had claimed Aegon was hoarding all of the spoils of war himself. After the long toil of the day ended and Tyrion had his supper he went off to bed.

When he awoke during the night it was with a startle, he could hear Pod banging on his door and screaming for him. Tyrion looked from his bed to the outside of the window and saw the gates of the castle were opened and the braziers were freshly lit,  _Could it be the Dornishmen already?_ Tyrion did not know for sure and when he slid off his bed and his bare feet touched the cold stone of his room he wished he had worn something on his feet to bed. The fire was still blazing on the far side of his room, but it did not seem to heat the room at all. "I'm coming Pod, just give me a moment." Tyrion exclaimed and when he did so Pod's frantic beating of his door ceased.

When the door swung inwards Pod was dressed in a plain white woolen tunic and brown breeches and his hair was unkempt. "M'lord, the King has called for your presence in the Hundred Hearths Hall."

"What's going on now? It doesn't sound like we're being attacked, and if someone died they would have already began ringing the bells." He ushered Pod into the room while he went looking for something to wear. His red velvet doublet would serve in all cases, Tyrion thought as he put it on.

Pod went over to the pitcher of water and filled Tyrion a cup. "I don't know M'lord. I was with Edric in the camps and-"

Tyrion chuckled and looked at Pod as if he had committed some great crime. "Now what were you two doing in the camps I wonder? I hope you weren't visiting anyone of the fairer sex."

The Payne boy's face turned a shade of crimson and he shook his head. "I didn't go there for that, Edric I think was, but not me, M'lord. I swear it!"

"It was just a jape, Pod. Now tell me, what did you see?"

Pod lowered his voice to a hush despite the fact that they were the only two in the room. "There was this line of people, some knights, a woman, a boy, some feral looking wolf, and some man in chains. I didn't think it was anything too important or noteworthy, besides for the wolf of course. But Edric said he knew the man in chains and that the King would need you for court. And then on my way back into the castle the maester Marwyn ran into me and told me to go and collect you."

Tyrion emptied the cup of tepid water and handed it back to Pod. "Well, then lets not keep them waiting." Tyrion turned to the door and waited at it for Pod to put the cup down and follow him out. The walk down throughout the castle had been a quiet one, as nearly all were still asleep. Pod claimed that it was the first hour of the wolf and by the way the moon shone through the windows that seemed correct. All the guards before the doors of the great hall moved aside as they saw Tyrion and Pod.

The Hall of the Hundred Hearths never ceased to amaze and amuse Tyrion. Contrary to it's name the hall only had thirty five hearths, but all the same it was grand and cavernous and it seemed silly that someone would see fit to lie on it's name. The hall seemed like it was forty feet high and like it could serve an army of giants better than one made of men. From the ground floor, Tyrion could see the Swannguard lining the stairs up to the second gallery. After he climbed to the second floor he could see Aegon sitting high above on his raised stone throne looking all the conqueror his men claimed he was. It did not look like he slept during the night as not even a hair was out of place under his crown of valyrian steel and square cut rubies. It was much fiercer looking than his old crown of silver, but it also fit him better and he seemed more confident when he wore it. Marwyn said that it was stowed away in the Citadel after Robert took the throne and that he had taken it back for Aegon as a gift.

When Tyrion began getting closer to the open area before the throne it gave him room to look at the guests Pod talked about. The woman amongst them was wielding a crooked spear and she was lean and had a hard face with matted and dirty brown hair. The knights who were dressed in mail and furs and all wore the cloak and colors of house Manderly. The man in chains was already forced onto his knees and he looked like he had seen better days then the one he was in now. But the long auburn haired boy looked just like that, a boy despite the short bow on his back and the giant direwolf at his feet. Tyrion made sure to circle far around the mean and black wolf which lazily lifted its head and licked its chops when he walked by.

"Now that my Hand is here, we can begin." Aegon exclaimed in a melodious voice that carried and echoed far throughout the hall. "First, I would like to humbly welcome you into my home, Lord Stark." The boy's face then twitched in disapproval, though Tyrion did not understand why. "It's a shame that you weren't here a few days earlier, as I just returned from your sister Sansa Stark's wedding."

The boy lord looked up the woman standing beside him and she silently nodded her head causing the boy to look back up at Aegon. "It ... it is. I don't remember my sister, Sansa though."

Tyrion did not doubt it as he remembered the boy being only a tiny child when Robert's court visited Winterfell. "That is sad, but I'm sure your family would rejoice to see you all the same. Especially your mother."

"My mother is dead." Rickon said with not much care in his voice.

Aegon shook his head and removed himself from his throne and walked down the steps of the dais. "She's not, any man or woman here can tell you themselves. She's just a few days ride west of here." Little Rickon Stark looked up at the woman with him and she ushered him forward with her hand. "Would you like to see her, Lord Stark?" 

"I'm not a Lord. My brother Bran is a Lord, but not me." The boy walked closer to Aegon and Tyrion and the latter watched the monster of a wolf closely when it picked itself up off the ground. Aegon did not seem to be too disturbed by it, but from what Tyrion had heard he ran into the pack of wolves and their queen when him and the Blackfish found the Brotherhood. "I heard that you can help my family."

Aegon nodded when he reached the bottom step. "I can and I will."

"And what do you want in return? Everyone wants something." When Rickon said it, a small laugh ran throughout the court around them.

Aegon stopped before the little Stark and kneeled down in front of him. "How about we start with what you want, Rickon?"

The boy's face took on several looks of suspicion and then confusion before he answered back flatly. "I want to see my family. Now what do you want?"

Tyrion could not help, but feel a smile growing on his face which seemed to be a feeling shared by the court. "That can be easily arranged, and truth be told I was always going to give you that." Aegon whispered to Rickon with a gentle and rare smile that Tyrion had rarely seen before. "Do you know what I want?" Rickon shook his head and Aegon whispered low enough that only few very near him could hear. "Until your brother returns, I will need someone to lead Winterfell and the North and I want that to be you. So grow big and strong, because one day I will call on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter, and if you did like it then leave a comment telling me so cause it really helps to know. And if you had any problems with this chapter, tell me or I'll never know how to improve myself.


	43. The Wolf of the Riverlands

Arya:

 

"Doesn't it bother you what they say about you?" Arya asked the giant blond woman who persisted in following her every step. They were currently walking through the halls of Riverrun and were on their way to Sansa's chambers to meet with her sister, Roslin, and the corpse that once was her mother.

Brienne shook her head. "No, what they say about me isn't important. I swore an oath to your mother and I will keep it." Arya glanced down at the sword on the woman's hip and snorted in laughter. "Is something wrong, my Lady?"

"Don't call me that, I'm no a lady. I've told you already, just call me, Arya." She pointed down at Brienne's sword. "So you think you can protect me with that? Do you even know how to swing it?" If she had a silver for every woman who claimed to know actual martial abilities and not just boast to then she could have already hired an army and taken her vengeance on the Lannisters.

"I do, and I will protect you and Lady Sansa both with it." Brienne never took her bait and it never failed to annoy her. _Oaths and promises are well and good until push comes to shove and it costs something to keep them._  Arya had learned that and it knew well.

But with Brienne always following her, it limited what Arya could do without being seen. It got tiring to have to climb through windows at night just to explore the castle privately and Brienne seemed to sleep outside her door at nights forcing her hand. "You'd be more useful protecting and watching my sister than me. I've survived for nearly two years by myself and I don't need you." Arya and Brienne passed by a guard dressed in Tully colors who bowed his head as they passed by him. "Or you should have just gone south with Aegon Targaryen. I'm sure they'll be in many battles soon and could use you."

"I don't serve him," The blond woman moved closer to Arya's side and said in a hush. "And you should call him King where others can hear you. Just to be safe ... Arya." Her name without Lady in front of it struggled to pass by her lips, but it did nonetheless.

"Should I fear him? Everyone knows he's just using my family to gain the North. And I can call him what I want if anyone wants to go and tell him they can." Arya did not have the time or the patience to play this game of words that would not amount to a drop of piss in a chamber pot.

Brienne shook her head and turned with Arya up the staircase to the second floor. "You don't need to fear him. He won't care, but those who follow him won't like it." 

Arya simply bit her lip and kept her silence while they walked and prepared herself for an evening with what used to be her mother. She had done her best to avoid her for the most part, but when she came to see her, she was forced to simply swallow her disgust. Her mother was an abomination of nature and an insult to the Many-Faced God in her current state. The only real positive Arya had found being near what used to be her mother, was that the seemingly endless number of both men and boys who hounded her always gave her peace and steered clear. They had been so awkward and foolish in their attempts to speak with her and it was easy to see that they were forced into doing it. The shyer ones were easy to dismiss, but the bolder and confident men did not take her no's easily and forced her to be rude. When she could escape Brienne she would amuse herself with paying back any men whom she did not like.

Lyarra Royce had gotten over her bluff a few days past, and she forgave her completely when Arya offered her a friendly shoulder to vent and cry on after failing to capture the Dragon King's heart. She was set to leave any day now for home at Runestone and she'd been very clingy and did not want to lose her friend as she put it in her own words. Sansa and Arya had both confided in each other that it was for the best that Lyarra was not marrying Aegon, but Arya wondered why Sansa felt that way.

Arya had run into him the night of Sansa's wedding by pure coincidence when he was leaving his room when she was exploring. He had looked very scared when he first saw her outside of his room, but later he chuckled it off when he realized it was her. She had been nervous that he would remember her, but it did not seem like he placed her face and she was glad for it in a way. His hand had also been bleeding and she thought the cut looked rather deep, but he held it behind his back when she reached for it. After that he had excused himself, Arya hid in the shadows and tried to sneak into his room, but the door was locked and when she rattled the door handle she heard a scurrying noise inside of the room and she fled back into the shadows for cover. When the door opened the worst person possible to see her came from within the room and the maester Marwyn searched through the halls to no avail and soon after he returned to the room and locked the door behind him. Arya did not know what was happening in there, but she knew it was not anything innocent, as why would a maester not bandage a bloody and bleeding wound?

"Here we are." She exclaimed plainly as they stopped before the door to Sansa's chambers.

Brienne of Tarth nodded and gave Arya a small smile. "And I'll be waiting here for you when you're done."

Arya sighed and pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Sitting around the small table was a very pregnant and round Roslin Frey, who gave Arya a small and nervous smile before dropping her eyes to the sweet apple cake in front of her. Next to her was Sansa who sat further back in her seat leisurely and had an unfinished needlework on her lap and a half-eaten lemon cake on her plate. What used to be her mother sat on the other side of Sansa and looked at her with what passed for a smile on her face, and of course she had no food or drink before her. Arya had never seen her eat or drink even once at the wedding feast and added with the fact that she never excused herself to the privy, it gave Arya the creeps and she would not doubt that she did not sleep any longer either.

"What took you so long?" Sansa asked her sister without looking up from her knitting.

"I had a slow morn," Arya responded back while she sat down across the table from Sansa. She then realized that Sansa's needlework had the silver trout of the Tullys on it. "What's that for?"

Sansa held it up for Arya's inspection and explained. "It's midday, not morning, and I'm making it for the baby when he or she is born." Arya looked at Roslin whose face reddened due to the attention now being directed to her.

Lady Stoneheart smiled at Arya and reached for her hand and held it tightly. "Eat something." She wheezed out while she covered the slash on her throat with her free hand. Arya looked down at the platter of cakes and deserts in the center of the table and chose a small blackberry tart. "Maester Vyman says your Aunt is due any day now."

Arya took a bite of her tart and savored the sweet creme. After wiping her mouth she smiled at Roslin and tried to ease her tension. "Then I'll have a new cousin soon. I can't wait." Her words seemed to help the former Frey woman and it gave her some comfort, which Arya was happy for.

"Aunt Roslin and I have been discussing you." Sansa murmured while she picked up her needle and looked for her last stitching. "Bethany confided in me with her father's plan of betrothing you to either her brothers Hoster or Brynden Blackwood."

The woman who used to be her mother spoke up for her in a hiss. "Lord Blackwood asks too much." With a reassuring squeeze of Arya's hand, she added. "My Arya doesn't have to marry if she doesn't want to. And I won't force her to ever leave me." She was thankful her mother covered those bases for her and it reinforced her thoughts on this woman not being her mother any longer.

"I agree completely." Arya and Sansa had gone back and forth constantly on the subject and Sansa always brought up their family name saying that they will have need of her to create alliances and secure their place in the world again. "Besides, Brynden Blackwood is much older than me. He's ten years older than you for Gods sake."

Sansa shrugged her shoulders and looked over at their aunt Roslin. "Uncle Edmure is nearly seven years older than aunt Roslin and she loves him. It can be easoer to have a husband older than yourself."

"It's worked well for you and Harrold." She shot back at Sansa to the horror of their aunt Roslin whose face paled and looked anything, not in front of her. While Lady Stoneheart's nails dug into Arya's arm.

She knew she should not have said it when she did and in response Sansa simply stared down at her lemon cake in thought. "I know you didn't mean that." After taking a bite of her cake her sister wiped her mouth with a silken cloth and continued. "And you don't know, Harry. You've never been in love, you're still just a child."

 _Obviously,_ _I don't know him, or do I want to._ "Maybe I haven't, but our parents were and they never did what Harry did or does." Arya felt her former mother's nails dig even harder into her arm, but she paid it no heed. "How many bastards does Harry have? Two or three? I'm sure he'll have more when the wars over."

Sansa could not control herself any longer and stood up from the table with a look of fury. "Father brought Jon home! He had a bastard and they were still in love! If mother could put up with a bastard child then so can I." The anger left her sister's voice as she finished speaking and then she calmly sat back down. "I don't want to speak about this any longer with a child who doesn't know what she's speaking of." Sansa looked over and gently patted their aunt Roslin's petite hand. "And we shouldn't raise our voices around our aunt while she's in this delicate state."

 _You were the one screaming. And I'm no child._  Arya wanted to argue back with her sister like they used to as children, but she bit her tongue and swallowed Sansa's words like she was taught to. "You're right. Are you in any pain, aunt Roslin?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. It's just difficult getting out of bed some days and walking can be more tiring than I'm used to." Her voice was small and gentle and it had brought a certain calmness back into the room, Arya thought. When she had first heard her last name it already put her in a bad light for Arya, but in truth she was gentle, quiet, and an easy going girl that she had grown to have a certain fondness for. Her aunt enjoyed when Arya would speak her mind freely and tell her of her adventures, which was something no one else besides Brienne enjoyed. Brienne however always gained looks of distress when listening and that annoyed her to no ends while Roslin would simply enjoy it in silence like it was some song or story.

"It was the same for me, my first time." Lady Stoneheart wheezed out in her loudest voice. "Just don't push yourself too hard." It seemed like rare and fleeting moments, but sometimes there were rays of who her mother used to be inside this corpse of a woman.

"I feel him kicking worse and worse lately." Roslin's small petite hands went to her round belly and she winced in pain.

Sansa had already picked her knitting back up earlier and she looked surprised when their aunt had winced. "How do you know it's him?"

Lady Stoneheart explained to her oldest daughter. "It's a woman's intuition. You just know, my sweet daughter." It did not seem to remove any confusion on her sister's face and it seemed to just confuse her further and Arya felt similar.

Arya however mostly ignored the three women's talks of childbearing and focused on the delicious tart before her. It had felt like a day of mindless chatter to her until aunt Roslin brought up Ser Bennard Brune. "I've heard Ser Brune is organizing another hunting party for the pack of wolves."

Her eyes drifted to Lady Stoneheart who gave then gave her aunt Roslin a look warning that told her to be silent, but it was far too late for that now and the gate was open. "Nymeria ..." Arya's thoughts had not truly drifted to her in a long while and her dreams had been much tamer of late. "Over my dead body will he harm them." She exclaimed as she jumped back to her feet and shook her arm free of Lady Stoneheart's grasp. "I'm leaving tonight to go find them."

"Have you lost your mind? They're wolves and have killed hundreds of people!" Sansa argued, but Arya would not hear any of it.

"Nymeria wouldn't harm me, we have a bond." Arya did not know if her sister would understand what she meant, but it did not actually matter.

Lady Stoneheart got to her own feet and grabbed Arya's arm again and begged in a wispy voice. "Wait! Let me send word to Uncle and he come with us."

She shook her head as she couldn't wait and risk letting this Bennard Brune beat her there, or in the chance, it was a ploy to keep her there. "I've survived for two years on my own, I can handle it myself. I promise I'll be back in a few days, but I have to go and get to her."  _I won't let some stupid men hunt her for sport._ With one last pull, she was loose of Lady Stoneheart and turned for the door.

"I'm coming with you, my Brotherhood will aid us. The wolves have followed and benefited from us, they won't forget the one's who fed them." The woman who used to be her mother was determined and Arya knew she would not be deterred and this gave her a chance that she needed anyway.

Sansa however still howled with her disapproval. "Mother, you swore to the King that you would all stay here and look after the food distribution! You can't jut break your oath already, what will I do or say?" Arya realized how difficult of a position this left her older sister in, but she was smart and would know what to say to whoever asked. Regardless of whatever issues she had with him, she knew her sister would do it. After Arya and Lady Stoneheart walked through the door, she heard Sansa call out again. "If you go, then I'll write to Harry and he'll go stop you all!" It was a weak threat and she personally relished the idea of her sister's 'Harry' trying to stop her, she already would need a grave, so what was one more to dig? "I've missed my moonblood!" Sansa screamed out in a panic. While it did serve to give Arya pause and a sickening feeling in her belly, she kept walking and heard Brienne following close behind on their heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.


	44. Family In Need

Rickon:

 

Edric smirked confidently as he always did before he took aim of his crossbow and like always he hit right on mark. The bolt had whizzed across the range and stuck in the center of the target of oak wood and that noise was accompanied by Edric's bragging and laughter. "See if you can best that!"

Rickon gave one absent minded look at the target and pulled another arrow from the dirt. "In my sleep." Rickon looked over at Osha who gave him a knowing smirk. With a quick draw and pull, his arrow flew across the yard and planted itself directly next to Edric's cross bolt. The look of surprise and then discouragement on Edric's face which gave no shortage of amusement to Rickon. "Are we gonna keep wasting shafts, or are we done?" When he said it, his great uncle Brynden Tully snickered and the King's face twitched in amusement.

The black haired boy rested his crossbow on his shoulder and walked over to Rickon. And by the way Edric stood before him, he could tell that he was hoping to intimidate him. "How'd you get so good with a bow, huh? What are you ten years of age?"

"Practice." The look of doubt on Edric's face was even better to see, but Rickon could see Osha's look of disapproval over his shoulder so he did as he should and gave her what she was owed. "And the feeling of a hungry belly doesn't allow you to ever miss. It's death otherwise and my mother taught me well."

"Truly? Lady Stark taught you how to shoot an arrow? That doesn't sound like her." It was a fair question for him to ask if what he'd heard about his real mother was true.

But Rickon was talking about Osha and he wanted everyone to know what he owed her as it was only fair and he could give her that much at least. "It was Osha over there who taught me what I know." Edric looked over at the wildling woman who stood next to the King and she gave him a small smirk. "And I'm eight years old."

Edric nodded. "You're better than me anyhow." And then he tossed his crossbow into the dirt and gave Rickon a small shove. "A real man fights up close though, and not like a coward from far away."

 _Is this how it's gonna be?_ Rickon was slightly surprised how that escalated, but regardless of how much bigger Edric was than him he was not gonna back down in front of everybody. "Maybe so, but you're also not a man." The next shove was harder and was with both of Edric's hands. The shove had knocked Rickon into the dirt and as Edric moved closer and stood over him he grabbed a handful of dirt and prepared to toss it in the bigger boy's eyes to regain the advantage.

"Ed, what was that?" Asked the King as he appeared behind Edric and pulled him away by the shoulder a few feet away.

The black haired boy turned back to the King and gave him a small smirk. "Just showing him the way things are. The small shouldn't provoke those bigger than them, it never ends well and he should learn that."

With a rough tug Edric was pulled ever farther away by the King. Osha and his great uncle Brynden walked over to Rickon and he let the dirt slip through his fingers. His great uncle helped him back to his feet and helped dust him off. "Are you alright, Rickon?"

He nodded as it did not hurt at all it was just annoying. "Fine, just a small push and fall into the dirt. It doesn't hurt anybody." That seemed to amuse his great uncle as the grey haired man ruffled his long auburn hair affectionately.

Aegon Targaryen spun around to his great uncle Brynden and leaned in close enough so no one else could hear, though Rickon and Osha both did. "Take him to the training square and run him through his parrying. He needs a bit of punishment."

Great uncle Brynden nodded and let loose a loud chuckle. "Come Ed, it's time for you to show me how good you think you are with a sword. And how about you show me what happens when the small provoke the big?"

Edric sighed and followed after Uncle Brynden without another word of complaint while the King stayed before Rickon and wore a gentle smile. "I'm sorry about, Edric. He tries to show up others to impress me and he goes way too far as you have just now seen."

Osha spoke up on Rickon's behalf. "He's had to deal with far worse than that little boy."

"I could have handled him." He knew he could have beaten him, Edric may have been bigger and stronger, but he was slower and would have doubted Rickon due to his size until it was too late. "And you don't need to apologize for something out of your control, your Grace." Osha never ceased to tease him on using the proper titles, but Rickon did not see why not to otherwise.  _He'd shown me respect, why shouldn't I do the same for him?_ Rickon would always tell her which garnered more laughter from the wildling woman.

The title on the end of his words seemed to find some amusement within the silver haired King as well when his lips twinged into a smile. "I don't doubt it." The Dragon King motioned for them to follow after him and they did as he bid. Harrenhal had shocked Osha when they first saw it over the hill on their arrival, she muttered about how castles should not be as big as mountains. Rickon himself had tried to contain his own surprise and fear of the castle, but it did look like it could hold Winterfell in it's front courtyard alone. He was sure that he'd slept in caves more shallow than the front gatehouse of the castle. The towers themselves were all easily higher than any at Winterfell and it made him dizzy with excitement at the thought of climbing one to it's peak. "Are you excited to see your family again?"

He had wondered that question many of nights and it was strange feeling for him to not know the truth of his mind. "I don't know. I don't remember any faces besides my brother Bran's."

"Truly? You don't remember anyone else, not your father, mother, sisters, or brothers?" Aegon's surprise was obvious and Rickon knew it was something he would have to get used to hearing as many already had treated his response with the same words to some extent or another.

"Only some voices and memories without faces." Rickon answered honestly as he did have some memories of clinging to an older brother's leg daily for some reason. And he remembered a man he thought to be his father giving him Shaggy as a pup and telling him to take good care of him.

He did not know what he did, but Aegon's voice seemed to flatten and his head hung lower as he walked. "It's sad is it not ... not to remember family? I don't have any memories or voices myself, my family was all killed when I was still just a babe."

That surprised Rickon greatly at how open the man was being with him and just the thought of having no one to watch after you was strange as well and took the focus of his mind. "So you had no one to take care of you?"

The silver haired King let out a chuckle and shook his head. "No family, but I had archmaester Marwyn to watch after me. He was my tutor, teacher, friend, and in someways my father." Aegon looked over Rickon and then at Osha. "Just like you have her. You called her your mother before and you said she taught you to shoot a bow, just like archmaester Marwyn taught me how to read and write." They walked just before the eastern gate and a wall of men separated from their way and bowed their heads. Slightly turning his head to study them, he could see the so-called Swannguard who wore a white and black dragon with the wings of a goose on their chests.

"Sounds like you had quite a childhood." Osha exclaimed as they all walked closer to the water's edge.

The King looked down at Rickon and patted his shoulder. "I suppose I did, but from what I've heard Rickon here has had it far harder than I. What highborn male can claim to have a wildling protector? Sounds like quite the inspiration for stories and songs to me."

Rickon's wildling mother shot back quickly. "You're the hidden prince who everyone thought was dead, I think that sounds more interesting than someone from the other side of the Wall teaching a northern Lord to shoot an arrow."

It brought a small smirk to the King's lips and he shrugged. "I think the bards and singers would agree with you, don't know how many more tales of me as a babe solely outrunning the Stranger, I can handle." Rickon looked far out over the water and at the weirwood covered island in the center of the lake. The Dragon King seemed to take notice of his fascination and answered his coming question before he asked it. "It's called the Isle of Faces, people say it has the largest amount of weirwoods south of the Neck."

"I've never heard of this place ... have you ever been there?" Rickon was awestruck with the idea of an island full of weirwoods uncut and unblemished. Osha had always told him their Gods had no power in the south, but how could that be true on that island?

The King shook his head and combed his loose silver hair back over his ears. "No, never. Always sounded like quite an interesting place though, I admit. I heard about the fabled green men who maintain the island and protect it from any who attempt to destroy the weirwoods." The man kneeled down to Rickon's height and whispered. "I was always frightened of weirwoods when I was a child ... it was the faces on them you see."

"The faces? Why would you be scared of them, they can't hurt you." It sounded ridiculous to him that someone would be scared of the weirwoods, they are the eyes of the Gods and will not hurt you.

The silver haired King shrugged his shoulders and gave one cautious look over at Osha before lowering his voice even further. "It's just how they look with their blood red leaves, bone white trunks, and I just always felt like I didn't belong when near them."

"Nothing to be scared of, the Old Gods are more welcoming than your Seven anyhow." Rickon did not remember much of Winterfell, but he did remember how long prayer to the Seven took and how easy and fun it was to pray to just the Old Gods.

The King chuckled and stood back up to his full height and asked him. "Do you want to go see it?"

"Yes." Rickon did, more than anything else at that time and moment. And he wished for Shaggy to come with him after he finished hunting whatever he was at wherever he was. His brother Bran had not spoken to him in a long time and he knew his brother would find him there with so many eyes to look through.

"How about we both go on the morrow before you leave for Riverrun?" When the King asked, he ecstatically nodded his head to the amusement of both the adults. "We should start heading back." He murmured and on his word they all turned back towards the castle, though Rickon moved more slowly than they did. As they walked back to the mountain of a castle, the man spoke again. "What did you mean by 'my brother is lord, but not me' when you first arrived at the castle?"

Rickon looked up at him, but the King gave nothing away as he held his shoulders back and head forward with a look of neutrality. "Like I said, he's my older brother so that makes him Lord before me."

"I've been led to believe your brother was dead." He responded back with a shift of his violet eyes that moved to Rickon and then to Osha as if he was studying them and their next reactions.

"I also heard they thought the same thing about Rickon here." His wildling mother responded back in his place though he did not think it was necessary as he could have spoken for himself.

The man's face twitched in disapproval, but his tone was even and lighthearted as before still. "So where is he then? He obviously wasn't with you. If he's in danger I could help him you understand?"

 _He doesn't need saving, just like I don't._ Rickon looked up at the man everyone called a dragon made human and he made his face stiff and unemotional. "He doesn't want to be found, your Grace. And I'd prefer not to speak about it any longer if you don't mind."

"For now I'll respect your wishes. But rest assured we will be talking about this again." The man did not seem to be happy in the least about not getting his answers, but Rickon could not trust him. His wildling mother had warned him the entire trip south that it was dangerous down here, but it did not seem that bad at all to Rickon. She had even told him the day before that regardless of how many hidden enemies they may have in the south it is much still much safer this far south than in the North.

As the trio all walked back into Harrenhal and through the gates, Rickon saw the three headed dragon banner flying high over the castle on tallest tower and it reminded him to ask. "Do you have dragons?"

The King seemed to find amusement in his words and shook his head. "No, not everyone is so blessed to possess what's on their family's banner." When they got back to the center of the archery range, Rickon saw that their former spots had been taken over by other squires and lords who practiced their skills with mostly crossbow. "Does that disappoint you?"

It did not, at least not really. "No, it doesn't bother me." Though he did wish to see a dragon at least once in life, the King could not do anything about it so he had no reason to have hurt feelings.

The King bent down again to Rickon's height said with a small smile. "The boy with a direwolf and unicorn is disappointed because he couldn't see a dragon." His wildling mother had told him it would cause problems to bring Snowmane with him down south, but he bonded with him and it was only natural to take him where he went. She claimed that he was being taken well care of in the stables despite the fact that she was not happy at all about him being there. He was still far too big for Rickon to ride, but he would not be in a year or two after he grew again it seemed. "I do have a dragon egg if you'd like to see it."

"Really?" He had heard about dragon eggs from maester Luwin and heard of how they radiated heat when you would touch them. "Can I?"

"You can, it's a blue like water with waves of grey that-" Before the man could finish speaking, a bald man of impressive girth and sandy haired man ran up to them in a huff. "What is it, Lord Arryn?" The man asked the sandy haired one who struggled to regain his breath.

The bald man dropped down to his knees and handed the Dragon King a crinkled letter that he had in his hand. Without a word from the King he took it into his hands and read it. "It was sent from Lady Arryn, she writes that her mother and sister have fled from Riverrun along with the Brotherhood." The bald message carrier explained.

"Have I not done enough for the Starks?" Aegon asked in disbelief and Rickon could not find the courage to answer and neither did anyone else. "I pardoned her and her outlaws, gave her home back to be with her daughters, I got her son's bones back and allowed him to be labeled as a true king of the North in the histories, and then I gave her a purpose in feeding and helping the smallfolk. And what does she do? She pisses all over me and every kindness I've tried to give her." The silver haired man crumpled up the letter and shoved it back into the hands of the message carrier. The King looked over at the sandy haired man who looked to be recovering from his run, he did notice the laces on his trousers were not tied strangely enough. "Are you going listen your wife's plea?"

The sandy haired man nodded and stood back up to his full height. "Of course I am."

"Go and find Ser Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully, and tell him what you told me and let him read the letter. Then tell him to meet me by the stables and tell him to get ready, the games end here." The King commanded the message carrier who then got back up to his feet and turned to leave. "Wait! After that go and find Lord Tyrion Lannister and tell him everything that you have told me. Then tell him from me, his King, 'thank you for your suggestion of Clement Piper'. And then order him from me to give Lord Piper's job to Lord Jason Mallister." The bald man nodded and ran from them to go and look for the Blackfish. The silver haired man looked over at Osha and asked her. "Do you know how to track?"

The wildling woman nodded. "Aye, I think I can track them if you need me to." Rickon knew he could as well and it was much easier to track human prey than animal prey.

"Good," The Dragon King looked down at him then with no softness in his face anymore. "I feel I need to ask a favor of you, I'll need your wolf's help out there." He felt the man did not even need to ask as Rickon would have asked to go with him anyway and so nodded quickly. The man spun around to the sandy haired man. "I need you to go and collect as many men as you can Harrold, and-"

The man he called Harrold did not wait for the rest of the man's words before he spoke up with enthusiasm heavy in his voice. "Right away, I'll be at the stables as soon as I finish."

The big sandy haired man tried to leave, but the silver haired King grabbed him by the arm to stop him. "Pull up your damn pants and lace them up, you're embarrassing yourself and your wife." Without another word, he pushed Harrold's arm away and threw Rickon a small nod before he broke into a jog towards the Kingspyre Tower.

The Harrold man bursted out into laughter and began to lace his breeches back up and after he finished he walked off in the direction of wherever he planned to go. "Go get your warmest furs and your hunting pack, we'll need it I fear." He was planning on getting it anyway as it had flint, stone arrowheads, skinning knives, a root healing salve, and some dried fish. "Call Shaggy too, I don't relish the thought of fighting an army of wolves without him by our side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.


	45. The Blood of Oldstones

Brienne:

 

The ruins of Oldstones, people said it once was the castle of some great River King that she could not remember. She thought the event of it's destruction had something to do with the arrival of the Andals, but she could not remember anything else of its actual history or of how it was ruined. The grass around the area had grown high enough to reach the waists of the men of the Brotherhood and the bodies of the seven wolves and nine men almost were hidden under the shivering waves of grass. When they had first approached the den of the wolves it seemed like it would be all good and peaceful, but it only took one wolf to attack before the others joined in and the men were forced to fight back. The giant direwolf Lady Arya had called Nymeria had beaten the rest of her pack back into submission soon after it started to stop them. For Brienne it was the most surreal moment of her life watching that direwolf heel down to that small brown haired girl.

Someone had to break the silence and when no one else would, and she knew it would have to be herself. "What do you want to do now?" _What can you do now?_ She thought of asking as she looked at Lady Arya who leaned over the corpse and was squatted down under the tall grass.

"I need to go and get my sister, and then we're going to the North. The Starks belong in the North not the south." Lady Arya exclaimed as she held the cold and dead hand close to her chest. "My brother is north and he is in control of Winterfell. It's my home and I want to see it." It was what she feared the girl would say.

Lady Catelyn or Lady Stoneheart as she had become, looked so serene and peaceful laying in the cold dirt. The ground around the area was still rather soft so she could be buried here without much effort. The dark red dragon's breath flowers were pretty enough for a grave Brienne thought when her eyes drifted to them, though they looked like they were on their last gasp before winter killed them. The Brotherhood all had already said a prayer over her body, but in truth it seemed like no one was vengeful about it or angry it had occurred. Brienne had seen Lady Arya's blade slip out of her sleeve and watched as it pierced Lady Catelyn's heart and she was sure others did too, though no one said anything about it if they did and hopefully would not.

"I could not stand seeing her like this, scarred, rotting, and foul smelling. She may have been my mother once, but my mother died at the Twins with my brother Robb. I don't want to remember her this way, I want to remember her as she was when I was a child. Auburn hair and not grey, high cheek bones and no scratch marks all on her face."

She walked over to the short girl and picked her back to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "As will I." She had expected the prickly girl to resist the gentle touch, but she simply took it without complaint.

Lady Arya rubbed her nose with the back of her sleeve and sniffled. "She always wanted me to marry someone and be a proper lady. This woman was just adamant about letting me choose my own fate and said it was all my own choice. I guess my sister will try to force me to marry now."

"Maybe ... or maybe not. You could try to talk to your sister about it and raise your own complaints of it to her. I don't know her very well, but I know she loves you and I think she will listen to you if you tell her calmly." She liked Lady Sansa very much and she wanted to tell her several times already that she was just like her mother, but she never could quite find the words or time to. "If she still persists in her desire then at least humor her. Meet with the boys she has in mind and see if you like any of them or if any of them catch your fancy. Even I did that for my family, I may have never found one that I liked and my father was not happy, but he respected my decision in the end after I put my best foot forward and tried."

"I originally just came back to Westeros to see my brother Jon and tell him not to worry about me. When I heard about Sansa's marriage I had to come to see her before ..." Lady Arya's voice caught in her throat and she paused to collect her thoughts.

She rubbed Lady Catelyn's youngest daughter's shoulders gently and tried to coax out the answers she needed to hear from her. "Where were you? And what did you need to tell, Lady Sansa?" Lady Catelyn had worked tirelessly to get any answers from her, but she had just told them she was in hiding and would never elaborate.

"I-I was in Braavos. I fled there, soon after my brother Robb died." Lady Arya hung her head over and her great direwolf Nymeria padded over to her and nuzzled her nose against the girl's open hand. "I joined the Faceless Men, they're a group of assassins and I'll need to return before the next year is over or risk being hunted and eventual death, they don't like their secrets being lost."

It sounded like lunacy and then it sounded like a lie to Brienne. But If it was a lie, it was perfectly said as she could not doubt any word of it just by how Lady Arya had said it.  _But the Faceless Men? How could she possibly find and join them?_ "All the more reason to return to Riverrun and be with your sister. If she is about to carry a child, she will need all the support she can get."

The youngest Stark girl walked away from her grasp and she feared Lady Arya would run, but she took only four steps before stopping in front of the red flowers. "I love my sister, I do and I always will. But even if I can persuade her not to make me marry, the King and his followers won't stand for it. I know it's what is expected of me being a female Stark, but it doesn't change my mind and I will not just be sold off like chattel."

 _What is their problem with him?_ She knew Lady Sansa held severe distaste for King Aegon, but she did not know Lady Arya held the same views. "You girls are far too hard on him. I didn't know that he was Aegon Targaryen at the time, but I always remembered him as a quiet and distant boy who was never cruel or foul. If you just talk with him he will listen and take your thoughts into consideration, but just doing what you please is not the way to go about this situation."

The dark haired girl spun back around and her face had become one of distrust and anger. "You're just on his side. You even said it yourself that you grew up with him." Her voice was as hard as steel and she regretted telling Lady Arya that bit of history and of giving her that argument to use on her.

She tried to step closer to soothe the girl, but the direwolf Nymeria put herself in between them and bared her fangs in a warning manner. It had forced Brienne to keep her distance for now, lest she dared to test the control Lady Arya claimed she had over her direwolf. "I swore to protect you and your sister. I'm only on your side and that means giving you wisdom and helping you. But if you mean to go north and to Stannis then I will stop you." Brienne did not want to come to blows over this and she did not know if she could count on the Brotherhood to back her up. The northerner Harwin had stayed back at Riverrun to protect Lady Sansa, and Thoros of Myr had died within the Twins. So she did not have any idea where these men's loyalties stood or if she could trust them.

"You can try." The darker Stark girl murmured and Brienne could faintly see the outline of the thin blade she kept in the girl kept in her left sleeve, but her real concern was the direwolf that blocked her way from getting to Lady Arya.

Before she could draw her sword, a howl of pain from a wolf rang throughout the night sky before it slumped over dead to the ground. It was hard to see at first due to the poor lighting from the moon and the high grass, but when she saw the arrow sticking from its side a man from behind her shouted out. "Soldiers all around us!" And as he said it, it seemed like hundreds of torches lit up all around them and the ruins which were then accompanied by the screams of a charge.

"Kill the wolves!" Roared a short man who wielded a double sided axe that then preceded to decapitate 'Likely Luke' with a single swing. Brienne had drawn her own sword just in time and had dodged two wild swipes from the man before he was taken down by two wolves that ripped into his flesh.

Another voice that had carried high over the rest commanded them. "The wolves you idiots, the wolves not the men!" The man had a blue plumed helmet and speared a black wolf through the mouth and he held a torch in his other hand that he swung wildly to ward off any wolves.

She did not know who was on her side anymore, but when a wolf turned their way and stalked towards her, the direwolf Nymeria blocked its path and it then turned towards another target. "Arya, stay behind me!" Brienne and Lady Arya were backed up to a semi standing wall and any who tried to make it passed her to the girl would not do so unimpeded. From the other side of the ruins came another wave of soldiers and leading them was the King Aegon who was easy to see as he wore no helmet and his silver hair stuck out like a landmark, and when he nearly cleaved a wolf in two that jumped at him his men roared in cheers and bloodlust. 

Another man who did not understand the commands that were given charged at Brienne with a spear and after his first thrust went short, she had chopped the tip of the spear off with her sword and the great direwolf Nymeria tackled him from behind and tore into the back of his neck while the carnage broke out all around them. The blue plumed man was nearly overwhelmed by a trio of wolves before a woman wielding a crooked spear killed one and put her dagger through another's eye, but not before its teeth had latched onto her leg and elicited a cry from her. She could not see where the archers were, but the arrows that were shot were all on point and one had already saved her from a wolf that tried to sneak over the ruins and to jump down on her.

"Nymeria, lets go!" Lady Arya screamed as she bolted passed Brienne and ran and scurried through the fighting skillfully and unhindered. She could not see where the direwolf was anymore, but she did not look very hard before she sprinted off after Lady Catelyn's youngest through the high grass and fighting.

While they ran from the bulk of the fighting and ruins, a horseman rode after them and she could hear the man calling out for them to stop, but neither of them heeded him for very different reasons. The direwolf Nymeria looked like the dark shadow of a demon as it bounded passed Lady Arya and then Brienne who nearly felt her heart stop in fear as it passed by her and without looking back both women heard a loud thud followed by the cry of a horse. And when it had happened, Lady Arya skid on her heels to a stop and screamed out for her Nymeria to stop and when Brienne caught up to the girl and looked back at what happened. She saw the direwolf had killed the horse and was currently stalking over to Ser Brynden Tully who was trying his best to get back to his feet, but he was struggling fiercely from the fall off of his horse.

Brienne did not know where he had come from, but he was there and Aegon Targaryen stepped in between the direwolf Nymeria and Ser Brynden with his sword pointed at the monster of a wolf. The youngest Stark girl tried to run to her Nymeria, but Brienne had caught her by the shoulder just in time before made it passed her. "Stay back ..." Aegon commanded as his voice shook and broke in fear of the direwolf. "Just stay back." Lady Arya seemed to give up fighting Brienne as her body went limp and she herself did not know whether to run away with the Stark girl or to go and help the silver haired man against the direwolf.

He lowered his blade ever so slightly and when he did so, Nymeria's head pulled back and she began to slowly back away from them. "Arya, what-" Brienne's words caught in her throat as an even darker wolf of equal size slammed into Nymeria and they both rolled around in the dirt for dominance and were yelping and growling all the while.

Aegon looked like he was trying to call out for someone, but before he could a wolf had stalked him from behind and tackled him into the dirt forcing his sword to slide away from his reach. They wrestled in the dirt and the wolf had whined out in pain when the silver haired man drove his knee into its side. The grey wolf soon rolled on top of him and sunk its teeth into his arm that the fair man used to block his face with and he screamed out in bloody pain as the wolf's teeth tore into his forearm. Ser Brynden tried to climb over to his King and the wolf, but his leg looked very wounded from the fall. While close by was Nymeria and the other direwolf who were still fighting in the dirt, but it did seem as if Nymeria was getting the best of it as she was now on top of the other one.

The noises in the distance seemed to stop and they were replaced with the sounds of the two direwolves fighting and whining and of the King screaming out in pain and fighting while blood poured from his left arm. Brienne tried to run forward and help him, but when she let go of Lady Arya the girl had slumped over and she was forced to catch her before she fell. "You can't have fainted now!" She screamed at the unconscious Stark girl whose eyes had rolled into the back of her head. After a hard and sickening punch from the silver haired King, the wolf slumped over and Brienne saw the shiny pommel of a knife sticking from the wolfs eye. "Are you alright!" Brienne screamed over at the King who squirmed and wailed on the ground in pain while he held at his bloody and mangled left arm.

Nymeria had dominated the black wolf and slowly slinked off it, though her eyes never did leave it and she was still quite wary. "What happened?" The girl asked as her body jerked out of Brienne's grasp and she stumbled over to Nymeria. She seemed to be dazed and when she looked over at King Aegon Targaryen who was being attended to by Ser Brynden, she paced over in their direction. Brienne was still very cautious of any other attackers and of the black direwolf which still maintained its submissive position so she never put down her sword.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted through ground teeth as he writhed around in pain.

Another figure came running to them and slid down besides King Aegon and tossed his plumed helmet away. "Does he live?" Asked Lord Harrold Arryn as he leaned over the silver king.

"Of course I am alive, you fucking shit! Do I look dead to you?" He screamed and spit out and he looked like he was ready to strangle Lord Arryn if he had just enough strength to get up or reach him.

Lady Arya reached down and tore the edge of her tunic off into a long strip of cloth and pressed it deep into his wound which resulted in another howl of pain and expletives from the Dragon King who showed off the famous temper it was said the Targaryens possessed. "You need to stop the blood flow if you plan to live." The Stark girl told him though it seemed like he could not listen or would not over the pain he was feeling.

Ser Brynden had pulled his grand niece's hand away and roughly pushed her back. "Harrold, get them back to the ruins and keep them there. I don't care if you have to strike either of them, but do not let them escape! And send a group of five strong to come and carry him." Lord Arryn's hand went to the sword hanging on his belt and Brienne saw Lady Arya's own hand going to the waistband of her breeches for her dagger.

"Arya, enough for one night." She murmured and gripped the girl by the wrist to stop her. She did not take much effort to lead away then, although King Aegon's screams drew both of their stares as they walked away. The ruins were alight with torches now and there were many more wolf corpses strewn about and a few of the Brotherhood members who did not drop their weapons and surrender. It seemed like King Aegon's soldiers had lost many of their own too. Both woman found their way back to Lady Stoneheart's corpse and they sat against the broken wall as Lord Harrold guarded them along with several other men. The great direwolf of Lady Arya eventually came padding back over to them, though many of the men had given her looks of fear, Lord Arryn told them to leave it unhindered for now.

"Now that was a proper battle, enemies on all sides, blood spraying everywhere." The Lord of the Vale's voice seemed tired and he looked quite exhausted and very bloody to Brienne, but fortunately for Lady Sansa it seemed like none of it was his own. "You know there will be severe punishment for this-"

She could not handle the sound of his loud voice over the pounding in her head, so she snapped back at him. "Can you shut your mouth. I know what's coming, and she knows what's coming. So just leave us be."

Lord Harrold's lips curved down into a frown, yet he snickered. "Fine," The handsome and thick Lord looked over at a tall and lanky man with full plate mail and a spiked club. "You have command of their watch, know that it's your head if you fail and they escape." Brienne watched as Lord Harrold walked over to a small and teary eyed boy who was kneeling over the body of the spear wielding woman she saw earlier who now had an axe stuck deep in her back. "Dry your tears, Rickon." He ordered the boy who did not give him any more acknowledgment than one would an ant underfoot.

After the black direwolf trotted over to the little boy and nuzzled its head against the woman's head in a failed attempt to wake her, it slumped down besides the boy to mourn. It was then that she realized who the boy was. "Rickon Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.


	46. The Lady of Riverrun

Sansa:

 

A skinny grey haired man set the small cup before Sansa and slowly stepped away. "Fresh nettle tea with lemon, just like you asked for, M'lady Stark." Bennard was a kind and diligent man. Sansa had never heard him gossip or spread rumors with others, he simply did his job silently and did it very well. For the hours he served her, he was always close at hand and only a word away. "Would you like anything else, M'lady?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." Her voice was quiet and sounded more aloof than she meant it to be. Bennard never would turn his back to her when leaving. It was always intended as being respectful to her, but many times it looked like he would fall in the passed, though he never did thankfully. "Is everything peaceful?" She hoped it was, as she wanted to go to visit her aunt and the new babe today. He had only been born two days ago and Roslin was still exhausted from the birthing. The sight of the pale skinned and small girl with matted hair and heaving chest was something she saw frequently when thinking of her aunt Roslin. Her screaming and gasping for air were still something that plagued Sansa's nightmares and something that she knew she would be doing one day very soon. The babe was a healthy boy according to maester Vyman and his lungs certainly proved themselves that morn, his striking blue eyes were Sansa's favorite part of him, and his little tiny hands and feet of course.

As she lost herself in the thoughts of her aunt and her babe, Sansa needed to take a moment to recollect her thoughts when Bennard happily answered. "It is, Lord Clement has called his troops back and will not press the matter. The Swann troops however, still want to go out and find M'lady Arya and M'lady Catelyn. Along with bringing their brand of justice on the Brotherhoods heads." Lord Clement was a coward and an incompetent one at that, she wondered how long he would maintain his position before Tyrion had sobered up. But in the meantime, she planned to use Lord Piper's ineptness to her advantage with the Arryn troops Harry left behind with her. Already she had kept the peace between the two factions and was now in complete command of the castle. She had accepted Harwin into her household and she made him the new captain of her guard. Harry may be irritated later when he found out that she did it on her own, but he would not take it further than he thought he was expected to as Lord and in the end he would heed her as he well should.

"Good, and if anything of note happens I need you to come to me immediately. If they start squabbling again and seem ready to come to blows then get Harwin and he will take care of it." The old servant nodded his understanding and exited the room quietly. She closed her eyes and took a sip of the warm substance just as a cool breeze went through the room.  _Northern cold._ Sansa had seen several flurries in the past few days, but thankfully it still struggled to stick and most of it had melted. The thought of the cold reminded her of Lord Harrion Karstark, who had begged Harwin to have words with her. Sansa had not heard of the man being held in Riverrun until the fact and when Harwin organized the meeting she was surprised at how happy the Karstark man seemed to be to see her.

Lord Harrion had complimented her and admitted bashfully at how beautiful she had grown to become. He told her of how they once met a harvest feast when they were both much younger, though in truth Sansa did not remember him and was forced to go with a falsity of remembrance. After the niceties spoken he had gotten to his point and it surprised her greatly at how freely he spoke without care for his own health and of he reminded Sansa of herself at one point of being so naive with his words. "Go north tonight with all the troops you can muster, and there declare yourself the Queen in the North and take hold and defense of Moat Cailin. I could be your consort and we could reunite our houses." Harrion told her and it had taken every ounce of her being not to laugh at his proposal.

She had told him of how she was already married to Harry Arryn and it seemed to crush the man's spirit and when she told him that she had no desire to be independent of the south it broke his morale down further. In the end all of his ideas and plans were left in shambles, but Sansa promised him that she would speak with the King about his fate which Lord Karstark was deeply thankful for. It had been a fleeting idea at the time, but she had given true thought to the idea of betrothing her sister to the man. He seemed to have much love and respect for the Stark name and after the North was brought back into the realm they would be able to go back to the North that Arya loved so much and at live at the Karhold.

Her sister had been the only thing that served to trump her aunt Roslin's babe in her mind and Arya's fate always dominated her thoughts. Did she find Nymeria? Did she find the wolf pack and find it was not Nymeria? Or did her letter reach her Harry in time and did he save and stop Arya? Sansa's wonderings came to an end as a knock on the door broke her concentration and a small voice that Sansa loved to hear called through it. "Lady Sansa, are you in?" Bethany Blackwood always would come to find her during the midday and would follow her around until the night's fall.

"Come in, Bethany." The dark haired girl partially opened the door and slid through the small crack she had made. "Come and sit with me." Sansa told the Blackwood girl after she saw Bethany simply standing before the door and waiting for the command to move. The dainty green eyed girl slipped into the seat in front of Sansa and smiled brightly at her. "Are you thirsty or peckish?"

Bethany shook her head and her loose black hair flew over her the front of her shoulders. "No thank you, Hos shared an apple cake with me today." 'Hos' was her older brother Hoster Blackwood who was a kind and shy boy who could never quite meet Sansa's gaze and his eyes would always flee to his own feet or the ceiling. She knew that the sweet girl wanted to tell her something important as the girl always would smile and kick her legs about when she wanted to tell her something.

"An apple cake this early in the day? I think you were spoiled today." The girl's cheeks turned scarlet and she avoided Sansa's eyes in favor of the far corner of the room. "How does your brother Hoster fare? I haven't seen him in a few days at all."

"He's fine I suppose. He recently received some book of lost somethings from the King's maester and he has been locking himself in his room with candles again." Bethany had told Sansa many a times of how scholarly her brother Hoster was and Sansa could see how that could help a match between him and Arya as he would seem more worldly and would have interesting things to talk of with her. "Can we talk like we do sometimes?" The Blackwood girl bashfully asked as she hooked her thumbs together in nervousness. She nodded her acceptance as Bethany just wanted a personal talk between them as just girls and it didn't seem like that Bethany grew up around any girls her own age in Raventree Hall. "My brother told me a secret my father confided in him with." That peaked her curiosity and it would only behoove of her to listen and learn Lord Blackwood's secrets just in case it was something malicious. "I've been betrothed." When she said it she giggled in laughter and her blush got even worse and Sansa wondered where all the color in her came from as the girl was almost as pale as her aunt Roslin.

Sansa had not heard about that yet so it must have been kept a close secret as sometimes what Bethany thought were secrets were just things kept hushed. But this was a juicy piece of knowledge that she felt she needed to know. "Do you know who it is that you're betrothed to?" She desperately hoped it was a good person who would treat Bethany every bit as sweetly as she should be treated.

The green eyed girl shook her head and lowered her voice to make it a secret which served to only make her even cuter in Sansa's eyes. "I do not know, but Hos said father worked it out with the King during the melee." That answered several questions she still had lingering from that rather eventful day.

After Lord Clement appeared in the King's box, he had left soon after and never returned until the day before the wedding.  _What could he be playing at now?_ Sansa did not believe the girl was betrothed to the King, it would make no real political sense on his part as the Blackwoods did not have anything to give him. "I could listen and learn the rumors if you would like me to. A girl should know the one whom she plans to marry and give children to one day." Bethany's face lit up and she was happy that she successfully guessed at what the dainty girl wanted.

"After seeing Lady Roslin, I have to admit having children scares me." She spoke words that seemed like they were taken directly from Sansa's own heart. "Does it not scare you at all?"

She nodded her head and took another sip of her warm tea. "It does, but all noble women must go through it one day as it is our duty. Both of our mothers had multiple children and if they could survive it why can't we?" She had almost convinced herself that there was nothing to fear in being pregnant, but there was something to fear. Sansa feared sitting down and telling her real sister the truth, she could already see the look Arya would give her and imagine the words her sister would say. Mayhaps it would make Arya closer to Harry and it would make her realize this is real and she has to deal with it. Or mayhaps she would kill Harry for doing that to her older sister. Harry himself would be ecstatic and after writing to Harry he would most assuredly come back to Riverrun to see her. He likely would be coming back to Riverrun with Arya and her mother anyhow, but so she would not tell Harry until he left so she could call him back and get more time with him and get him away from the danger. "My sister dreads that prospect more than anyone else I think." She did not know why she told Bethany that as the girl herself was only ten years of age, and she in truth should be the most fearful of the three.

"Have you told her about marrying one of my brothers? You told me you were nervous talking about it with her." Bethany was curious about her sister and Sansa really wished Arya had stuck around longer so they could have met. She had no doubt her sister would love the girl as much as she herself did and the Blackwood girl could tell of her brothers worth to Arya and it would really help smooth over the prospect of marriage, Sansa thought.

She pondered the idea of telling a lie and that her sister was all for the idea, but she could not and would not lie to little Bethany. "She was not happy if I am to be honest." That seemed to affect Bethany instantly and Sansa quickly added. "It is no slight to your brothers ... the prospect of marrying anyone is quite vile to her."

The Blackwood girl did not seem to mind that Arya was so against the idea of marriage after Sansa had explained to her position while both of them sipped nettle tea for a while. She had taken to telling Bethany stories of her life as a girl at Winterfell and of her family life before the war until a knock echoed on the door and Bennard called in to her. "M'lady, a raven has flown from King's Landing and it bears important news."

After Sansa had called him into the room, he handed Sansa an opened letter and explained the only person who has read it was maester Vyman. The maester had also promised not to tell anyone of it's contents until she did so herself. Sansa wished she could trust the maester, but she knew that the man held great loyalty to her great uncle Brynden above all others. Some part of Sansa hoped and wished it was news of her Harry taking King's Landing and finally killing the evil Queen Cersei. But she knew it was not possible and hopefully her Harry had went to stop her sister from her foolishness. The letter still had the white wax star of the Seven on it and she then knew it was sent from the High Septon or High Sparrow, the name depended on your own preference it seemed. "The letters have flown to all the corners of Westeros ..." Sansa murmured while she read the heading of the letter. After finishing it's entire body she placed it down on the table and turned to her most loyal servant Bennard. "Thank you for bringing this to me, you may leave us." The old servant took his leave quickly and quietly as she turned to little Bethany. "It seems the Seven have not answered my prayers."

Bethany first took a polite sip of the tea, though she clearly did not like the taste as Sansa always saw her face stiffen when she swallowed it down. "Why is that?" She knew that the girl was a firm believer in the Old Gods like the rest of her family and in truth Sansa herself had taken more to the Old Gods of her father then of the Seven of her mother of late.

"It seems the Queen Dowager; Cersei Lannister was successful in her trial by combat. Ser Robert Strong stood in her stead and defeated the faith's champion; Ser Lancel Lannister. She has been proven innocent of the charges of adultery and regicide." Sansa knew it would turn out like this, it all seemed like such justice when she heard of the trial and she thought that the Seven would finally give the evil wretch of a woman what she finally deserved. They did not deliver like always and Cersei Lannister still held onto her position while good people like Lady Margaery Tyrell are excommunicated from the faith for simply laying with someone out of their marriage bed once in the far distant past. "And it seems fate will force me to wait awhile longer before seeing vengeance." And despite the bile that rose in her throat when thinking of Petyr Baelish, his words rang through her head o thef need to take your own justice in this world and not waiting for others to do it for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.


	47. A Time To Grow

Arya:

 

"Are you thirsty or hungry?" Her great uncle Brynden asked her in a grunt. Arya shook her head and kept running her hand through the horse's brown mane. They had to be close to Harrenhal by now, only a day at the most she thought and the sun was going down fast and she would just eat when they stopped to camp. "You've been quiet."

They had decided to double back to Harrenhal and Arya had been kept in the care of her great uncle who had forced her to ride with him on his horse. She understood that they did not trust her to ride on her own horse, but it irked her that they _did_ trust Brienne on her own. Her great uncle thankfully had not been injured from falling from his horse and only had a large bruise on his hip. The Targaryen's arm had been broken and torn open, they had done the best they could to patch him up and wrapped linen around his wound and created a sling out a woolen tunic to keep his arm upright. "I have." She murmured while looking at Aegon Targaryen on his black horse. He held the reins of it with his right arm while her little brother Rickon sat in front of him on the saddle which mirror Arya and her uncle.

"And I think you have several apologies say." The grey haired man kicked the horse into a faster trot and passed by the silver haired man and her little brother to the head of the line for privacy Arya imagined. "Going after a pack of feral wolves. What in the hells were you thinking, girl?"

"They were not feral ... Nymeria is here and she' not attacking anyone right now, is she?" Nymeria always kept close behind the horse and never let her get far from her sight. The horses did get spooked anytime Nymeria or her brother's Shaggydog walked close, but they would have to get used to it.

Her great uncle sighed in anger as they had argued over this many times in the last two days and neither of them would budge in their resolve. "My dead horse disagrees. And even if Nymeria was not feral, that pack of wolves with her were killing babes and women at random." Arya remembered several of those kills from her dreams, but Nymeria never toyed or played with them and the kills were always fast and painless. Her uncle had already spoken at great lengths of her impatience and of how selfish she was. It did not matter what she told him as he just did not listen and would continue to lecture her and threaten to put her in a cell. He tried to pretend that he was not scared of Nymeria, but the truth was that he would always stiffen up and grip the handle of the dagger at his hip as if that would protect him if Arya wanted him harmed. But she truthfully loved the man despite how he lectured and tried to discipline her, he did have her best interests in heart and she knew that he could be trusted.

She did not realize it back in Riverrun, but when all of the men were out here in the open and around one another for longer than one night they all were so different and distinct. Her uncle who they called the Blackfish, was always stern though very loyal and friendly if you needed to talk and he was always there with good advice. Her little brother Rickon was quiet and a recluse to everyone, and Arya wondered if it was because of the woman with him that had died. The so-called Dragon King seemed more solemn than he acted when others were around and she wondered if it was because of the pain he had in his arm or if he was putting on airs when not alone, but he had snapped at Harrold on multiple occasions already which was amusing to watch. "You should have seen that white wolf I caught alight with the torch." And of course Harrold Arryn her new goodbrother was just as intolerable as her first impressions of him were. His bragging seemed to be half the words that ever came out of his mouth, while the other half was bragging about being married to her sister and of how she was the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, which she was in truth. It would have been fair had she not know of how often he must have already stepped out on her sister for the whores that could not even compare to his wife.

Her great uncle and some of the men had built a small sled for her mother's body before they left Oldstones. Harrold thought it had been built for the Dragon King when he first saw it and when he voiced that sentiment the look on Aegon's face had quieted him quick as spit. The most important thing she saw before they left the ruins of a castle was the small burial they did for the wildling woman her brother had called Osha. It impressed her that her little brother did not let any tears fall even while they put that woman into the dirt. Aegon had promised Rickon that he would take care of him from then on, and in response her little brother had told him that he could take care of himself just fine. It put a smile on Arya's face and when the King turned from Rickon, she saw the first smile she had seen on him since she saw him in Braavos. 

When the group of fifty finally stopped to rest, the sun had fallen below the tree line. She recognized the area and knew it was close to the Inn at the crossroads. "Why are we stopping here?" She asked her great uncle Brynden while he set up a two body tent with fur insulation. "There is an inn close by that we could stay at."

Her great uncle planted a stake into the ground and looked east at where she was pointing. "It's not an inn any longer. They house children and it's an orphanage operating under the King's protection and coin." The Blackfish then planted the fourth spike down and it started to resemble a tent.

"I still do not see why we can not stay there." It's not like they would say no, even if they were not supplying them with goods they still all had swords and could stay for the night regardless of who protested.

Her great uncle quickly turned back to face her and he had a much softer look on his face. "If you don't want to sleep out in cold you can go ask the King to stay there. He was the one who ordered we camp here, I'm sure he will change his mind if you ask." She heard and could feel the sarcasm in his voice and she knew that he knew she would not show any weakness and it was not like it was a real problem. It was just stupid that they were ignoring an advantage and luxury just waiting for them to take. She had stayed in far worse conditions then these and it would suit her just fine to sleep in a nice and warm tent.

The soldiers had built a giant pyre in the center of a clearing and all of the tents were circled around it. Most of the men had already finished building their tents and the King's was the first one set up and it looked like it could house a family, though only Rickon and the Dragon King slept in it. Thankfully great uncle Brynden had finished their tent already and both went to Aegon's side of the pyre to eat supper with him and his group. Her brother had killed two grey owls earlier in the day and he shared one of the bland birds with Arya for supper while the King, Brienne, and her great uncle supped on dried meat and bread. Her great uncle and the silver haired man both sat on a large stump while everyone else sat on the cold, but slowly warming ground. "How are you feeling?" Brienne had asked Aegon after a prolonged bout of silence in which the only noise was her little brother's loud open mouthed chewing.

He looked up from his food and flashed a fake smile that just accentuated his bad mood. "It was fine a few days ago, but not so much anymore." The female warrior could not meet his gaze and when he realized that he nodded his head and let loose a small snicker. "Who knows what it will look like after it heals, and who knows if it ever will? I'm confident it's broken near the elbow and mayhaps even in the shoulder. All I know is that I can't move it and I know who to blame for it." When all talk had ceased again Aegon's eyes drifted each and everyone of them and his smile faded into an emotionless frown. "And several people are dead because it."

"If you didn't bring them they wouldn't be dead." Arya could not let Brienne receive the tongue lashing solely, though she had some second thoughts when both her great uncle and the Targaryen turned to look at her with faces of anger and passive amusement respectively.

"No, if you didn't go running off after a wild pack of wolves half haphazardly they wouldn't be dead. Your sister told you to stay put and you directly disobeyed her. It was only through her decision to send for help that saved you and those who foolishly followed you." The Dragon King shot back, and Arya did not miss the insult he threw unnecessarily at Brienne.

She knew that they would not believe she could control Nymeria, except for perhaps Rickon who it seemed like did not tell anyone himself. But she would not let this stupid and foolish man scold and lecture her. "If you and your men didn't attack no one would have died. Everything was under control until YOU showed up."

When Aegon rolled his eyes she felt rage boiling in her stomach, but it was her uncle Brynden who spoke up to respond. "You were being selfish Arya, and it only looking worse the longer you talk." She knew if glares could kill then her great uncle would be dead and he would soon be followed by Aegon Targaryen who still smirked at her. "I've seen what happens to headstrong girls like you, you all think you're invincible. And it never ends well in the end, usually for those around them unfortunately as you now well know. When you act ... you can't just think 'how will this effect me'? You have to think how will this effect those around me and my family."

"No one would have been killed if you just stayed out of it!" She did not mean to scream it and when she did so Aegon's lips peeled over his teeth into a bright smile of amusement which she felt compelled to punch.

Uncle Brynden's voice never rose or fell and he was perfectly calm when he said. "You are a Stark of Winterfell, Arya. You are important and people care for you, so much so they will put their own lives in jeopardy to save yours. And it is your job to never put them in places like that unless you absolutely have to." His words cut deep and she knew those were words her father would say himself if he was in her great uncle Brynden's position. "You should have stayed with you sister and helped her. Being a newlywed woman who's husband has recently went off to war is very difficult I've been lead to understand."

Arya knew Sansa needed her help and the reverse was true as well, but she did not want to admit a mistake like that in front of everyone, so she stuck strong. "Sansa didn't need my help. And if she did she would have asked me for it."

When she said it Aegon's eyes shifted to his right and he looked at Harrold Arryn who sat a distance away from them with some soldiers and he bursted out in laughter over something his eating companions had said or something he himself said. Arya had noticed that he had a bad habit of finding more amusement in his own voice than any others found. "She's married an idiot. A kind, brave, and young idiot, but still an idiot. I fear she will need to be much more than a simple wife to Harrold, he will need someone with a good head to maintain his demesne and vassal relations." Her great uncle explained in a quieter voice just in case anyone was listening to closely.

"So how can I help her then? Besides killing him of course." When she said it only the Dragon King seemed to find the jape humorous as her uncle Brynden kept a stone face. Her brother Rickon chewed leftover meat on the spine of his bird and did not seem to even be paying attention anymore. Brienne's eyes went wide and she looked at her feet for any comfort they might bring her.

"By doing whatever she asks of you and you making her life as easy as possible. At times she will need an easy ear to speak to, at others she will need wise advice, and she might even need to unload her anger and troubles on you." She knew it would be hard, but she knew she needed to do exactly what he said. Not because he told her to, but because it was only right and fair to Sansa. "I loved your mother fiercely and I love you girls even fiercer still. But you all suffer from the same delusions that you think you know everything. Seven hells, I don't even know everything and I'm half a century old, but I do still know more then both you girls and you should heed whatever advice I have gained in my life."

Suddenly Aegon's wooden plate which had been balancing on his thighs precariously fell into the dirt along with his meal. "Shit," He exclaimed as he reached into the dirt with his right hand and picked up his hunk of bread. "Serves me right I suppose. I made fun of Jaime fucking Lannister losing his hand and now I'm one handed and I can't even feed myself properly." His ground his jaw when he finished speaking and stared down wistfully at the wasted meat in the dirt.

 _Help others._ It killed Arya to swallow down her pride, but she felt compelled to offer him assistance. "Do you want me to help you?"

The man shook his head and glared over at her. "No, I don't need help eating from the reason I can't eat. Some weird jest that would surely be." She was thankful he turned her down as the thought of feeding him was not preferable to her. He then snickered and rolled his good shoulder in some way of either intimating her or to relieve his own anger. "Brynden go with Rickon and leave us three alone. I need to have a private word with the both of them." Her little brother to his credit seemed to anticipate Aegon before he had said it as he had already stood back up and started to walk away with his food in hand. Her great uncle Brynden however was much more resigned and he took his good time leaving the area and he seemed to be quite reluctant. "I must admit that you Starks are a riddle to me. I've bent over like a two penny whore to accommodate your family and you piss on me all the same. Except for your brother Rickon, who oddly enough has received the least from me yet still is the most loyal and understanding and youngest to boot."

"It wasn't done to spite you, your Grace." Brienne responded back, and it was true. Arya did not even think of him or what others would do, she only knew that her Nymeria was out there in harms way and she would not let another one of her pack die. 

"No? I'd like to believe that, but I must admit I struggle to." The silver haired man looked back at Arya and gave her his face punching smirk again. "Your goodbrother planned to bring you back to your sister in Riverrun. Did you know that?" She shook her head as she honestly did not, and that was due to the small yet still too much time she had been forced to spend with Harrold Arryn. "I turned him down all the same. And from now on, your uncle Brynden will be taking over guardianship of you and you will be my ward. You wanted to live in the rough and dangerous world then I'll show you just how bad it can be out here, and you'll beg me to go back to the safety of Riverrun with your sister."

He was a fool if he thought he could throw anything at Arya that she had not already seen or suffered through. And even if he found something worse, he would not and could not do it due to her status and rank. "What makes you think that will even faze me? And what makes you think I will even listen to you or uncle Brynden?"

"Think you got it figured out, ehh? Well how about this, behave yourself or I'll marry you off to the worst and most cowardice shit I can find. Or be a good little lady and I'll be sure you marry the best bachelor in Westeros, my squire Edric. He'll be the Lord of Storm's End one day and all of the Stormlands will pay him their fealty."

The thought of marrying him was almost as awful as the idea of marrying Harrold Arryn. She had to admit he was handsome, though much too immature and regardless of what he said or did she just remembered him as the boy who complimented her backside in the squire yard. "I would die before that happened."

He bit his lip hard and his violet eyes became light and friendly again in a mocking way she noted. "As you wish. I'll ask your sister for some good suggestions and then you will meet with each and every one of them and if you keep your manners I'll let you choose your favorite from the group. It's high time you marry as a lady of a great house or at least become betrothed, and the longer you remain a unattached to anyone the more insulting the other lords find it."

She wanted to shoot back that he himself was still unmarried, but instead she just reminded him. "You speak as if I am a child. You can't force me to marry anyone that I don't want to even if you are a King."

"If you think you can just dig your heels in and refuse to say the vows then you are sorely mistaken. Plenty of women have been dragged into a sept and married against their will by a proxy. It was unfortunate and a very distasteful thing to watch, but I have seen it happen with my own eyes." Aegon's eyes flicked over to Brienne. "I believe you were also at that forced wedding of Old Ben Herston and Gwynesse Staedmon." Then they quickly shifted back to Arya. "And if you aren't a child then you've fooled me with your antics quite well."

She knew that it was meant to anger her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of letting him win again. So she simply bit her tongue and looked down at his left arm and at the bright white of his knuckles. "I may be a child like you say, but even I know that they tied your arm far too tightly. The blood can't flow when you've cut off the circulation like that, and if you don't loosen it you will lose that arm of yours regardless." Aegon's eyes flicked open wider in surprise as he stared down at what she was talking about. "Now sit still." She commanded him after she wiped the crumbs of her bread off herself and kneeled down before him. After slipping his limp arm out of the sling, she untied the linen bindings and got her first look at his arm. It was a great mess of flesh and resembled a deer in the process of being butchered and she thought she spotted bone in the deepest part of his wound. "So what will happen to the Brotherhood without Banners?" Arya knew they were in deep trouble and she did not hold love for any of them, but she did not think any of them deserved to die for following her mother's lead.

"They will stand trial for their crimes, they broke-" Aegon's voice caught in his throat and he sucked all the air and saliva down his throat in pain. The cause was of course Arya who tightened the bindings to a blood halting level when he mentioned making them stand trial. After he had gotten her message she simply tied them how they should have been tied in the first place. "I heard rumors of you hiding in Essos, before you came back to Westeros. Where were you exactly?"

His question would have alarmed her if she did not know that it was a great point of gossip for many of the wedding guests at Sansa's wedding. "I was in Myr, I worked for glass maker until I felt drawn to go back home and see my country." She knew she could not tell him she was in Braavos, just in case he managed to remember her face. Myr was the first place that came to her mind and she picked up several words of their language over her time in Braavos.

"Oh aye. I've been to Myr several times myself, city of great craftsmen and workers it is." Arya nodded as that was a fact everyone knew about the Myrish. "Light skinned people, rather prickly and hard to befriend as well." She again nodded her head though in truth she had no idea if it was true and only prayed it was. It was then that Aegon found his smirk again. "You've never stepped foot in Myr. Is there a reason you're lying to me?"

Her face was a mask of emotions and she feared he had finally placed her face. "Noblemen aren't supposed to call a lady dishonest." It was the only response she could think of to divert his attention from the lie.

He blatantly looked down at her body and Arya wondered if he had lost his mind for how blatantly he was staring. "If you're trying to be a lady then you have fooled me by appearances. Dressed in a woolen tunics and leather breeches instead of a dress. I'd say you dress more like a man to me, not that anything is wrong with that, Brienne." He japed as he looked over at Brienne who looked quite uncomfortable and wanted Arya to shut up and sit back down.

"And you act like a woman with your singing and your hair." She felt confident in herself and she started to lose her tension around the man and he seemed to feel the same she thought.

Aegon's brow flicked up in interest, but they soon dropped and he regained his old stern demeanor. "Regardless, I feel I need to warn you about ... your wolf. From what I've seen she seems to be in control now, but all those people she has killed need their justice."

"All those wolves that you and your men killed and skinned are enough justice." It had saddened her to watch them butcher members of Nymeria's pack and it had taken much of her energy just to placate Nymeria during all of it. But if he thought he would kill Nymeria herself then he was sorely mistaken and she would let him know it. "I know what you're getting at, your Grace. And if you even try to raise a blade to my Nymeria I will kill you myself."

His violet eyes glazed over while he looked at Arya who was now standing over him and close enough for her to end him with her needle. "Well for now, you can see I won't be killing anyone or anything. But that doesn't mean this is over, and know that if your ... Nymeria, steps out of line even once more it will be all over for her." She understood and she knew that Nymeria would not as long as she was near enough to control her. "And it seems you don't understand proper etiquette, so I'll politely remind you now so you don't forget. It is death to threaten a King, and if you ever say anything like that in front of someone then I will have no choice, but to act against you. So just remember that if you please."

Arya was growing bored of him and his patronizing manner. "And you're a stupid King if you do." It slipped past her lips and it took every ounce of her muscles to stop herself from clasping her mouth in shock and fear.

When he declined to respond, she turned and walk back to her dinner, but he caught her by the wrist with his good hand. She knew he remembered who she was, how could he not? But when he stood back up to his full height and leaned over her, she felt her heart stop and she could smell his scent with him being so close. It was quick and she did not realize his hand had slipped around her waist. But when she did, it quickly retreated and she saw her dagger in his hand while a smirk played on his lips. "Your brother was right, you did have a dagger on you."

Arya snatched it from him and quickly backed away from him. "He's smart that's why. And if you ever touch me or get that close to me again, you won't be a King for much longer." His nerve almost stunned her and she kicked herself over seizing up like that. If it was a life or death situation she knew she would be dead right now. "I'm going to bed." She exclaimed and then turned towards her tent.

His smooth and melodious voice stopped her in her tracks however. "I'm assigning two guards to watch you tonight in case you try to escape."

The thought of two soldiers watching her sleep did not not comfort her in the least and it made her skin crawl. "I would like to offer my services for this task, your Grace." Thankfully Brienne had finally broken her dumb silence and spoken up on Arya's behalf.

It was then by the way Aegon Targaryen's eyes fluttered that Arya knew he was just telling a bluff and planned for this outcome in the beginning. "Fine, but if you prove yourself false on this then know I will take my vengeance out on your father for your crimes." The blond female nodded her understanding and Arya knew she was telling the truth and would not let her leave even if she wanted to.

As both women walked around the outer edge of the pyre, Brienne began her own lecture. "I hope you know I was serious. There can be no more games any longer, you used your one exception here." Arya nodded her head and smirked as she saw Shaggydog walk from out of the brush with a grey hare in his mouth. "And you can't threaten a King like that, Joffrey would have had you killed for much less than what you just said and did back there."

"We both know he's no Joffrey."

"He isn't, but his patience has limits like every other man. You should not test his limits like you did today, so there can be no more games like this from now on." Brienne was serious and Arya knew she was right in every way, Arya already learned all she needed to know about him and how she could play him. "So just follow my lead." Arya wouldn't do that though. Brienne was undoubtedly an ally, but she was far too short sighted and didn't even believe her about Braavos. It was probably better that way in the long run, but when she went back to the Faceless Men, Brienne would most likely remember that.

After they made it back to the tent, Arya was happy to see her great uncle was already sleeping. Brienne herself stood in front of the tent and stared at the burning fire while she laid down on her side and tried to get comfortable in the rather chilly night. It did not take long for sleep to overtake her and soon after she had slipped into Nymeria and was looking down at the mangled corpse of a red fox the direwolf had killed. After eating down most of the tough meat, Nymeria went looking around the camp for things of interest.

Brienne was still standing guard in front of the tent and looked quite tired by the way she rubbed at her eyes. In the brush a little ways away was two soldiers who watched over the tent very closely and Arya did not know why she was surprised he had still sent people to watch her. She thought about scaring them with Nymeria, but thought better on it just in case they were armed and kept walking around the camp. Harrold Arryn was still up with two other men and they were telling stories of past women they had been with, and she was thankful her sister's name never left his mouth or she would not have been able to control herself. The only thing of actual note in the camp she found after awhile was the sound of light crying that no one else seemed to be able to hear and she realized it was because of Nymeria that she could hear it.

It was a short walk away passed the King's tent and near a small pond where she saw her little brother Rickon who sat on a large stone and was skipping smaller rocks across the water. His tears were not continuous as he would sob then stop himself only to hiccup again in tears. "You can't cry, she wouldn't want you to." Rickon commanded himself and his nails dug into the palm of his hands to stop himself. When blood began to drip through his left palm, her little brother quickly dipped his hands into the cold pool of water, but continued sobbing. Arya knew she needed to get back in her own skin and wake up to go console and console her youngest brother, but before she could Aegon had passed directly by her and sat on the empty half of the rock on Rickon's right.

When her brother noticed the man was sitting there, he quickly wiped his eyes off and told him that he fell into the water. "It's alright, Rickon. There is no shame in crying for family and those you love."

"I wasn't crying! I just fell into the water and got wet is all." Her brother demanded him to know that, but when he said it his voice cracked and then he hung his head over in another sob that overtook him.

Aegon looked down at Rickon and his eyes looked softer then she had ever seen them before. "It hurts doesn't it?" When he said it the auburn haired child looked up and at the silver haired man's bad arm. "Losing people you love and care about. When I learned about my mother and sister's deaths I cried for several days. I thought I was being an immature craven when I did it, and I beat myself up over it. And after I couldn't cry any longer, I got angry and lashed out against everyone close to me who in truth were just trying to help me." The Dragon King picked up a small rock with his right hand and tried to skip it across the water though when he did it the rock simply slapped the water and sunk down into the shallow depths. "It didn't make me feel any better getting angry, and when I was done being angry I realized why we all cry."

Her brother was still doing his best to keep himself together, but several tears still rolled down his cheeks and his arms were shaking. "Why do we cry?"

He turned his head from the shallow pond and looked over at Rickon. "It's because we want someone to find and help us." He gave Rickon a gentle smile and did his best to open his arms although only one could actually move on account of the sling. Her brother however did not seem to care or realize how ridiculous it looked as he slammed into Aegon's arms and sobbed onto him. Unfortunately for him, Rickon had latched onto his bad arm and his head was currently nestled again the crook of his bad arm which was surely broken. To his credit he did not let his pain effect his voice which still was soft. "Me and you are a lot alike, do you know that?" Her little brother did not remove his face from the silver haired man's arm and he simply shook his head. It was hard to pick up on even for Nymeria, but she could smell a small trickle of blood rolling out of Aegon's mouth from where he bit down on his lip to endure the pain.

She thought again about going and waking herself up, but in the end she had simply laid down in the grass and watched them in silence. It hurt her heart to see how her little brother was in such pain, but it made her rather numb to see Aegon being the one to comfort him. It was quite a pity that Aegon was King, she thought. But it also made her recognize that she had a responsibility to Rickon now and she could not just forsake the youngest member of her pack any longer. She would be the sister and guardian he needed from now on. _Hell to anyone who tries to stop me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.


	48. A King's Trust

Tyrion:

 

The courtyard had been cleared of all men not of the Swannguard or Tyrion, Pod, and Marwyn. A messenger had arrived an hour earlier and briefed him on what the King had wanted.  _Keep the gates clear and make sure the amount of eyes on me is as minimal as possible._ He had done what Aegon wanted and to say it did not worry him was a lie.  _Was he hurt or wounded?_ He wondered. The day was perfect at the very least and the sun was still rising and it did not look like there was a cloud in sight. And of course, the Dornish would be arriving later on that day to meet with the King.

He had felt at the time that Aegon took far too few men with him, he should have brought a hundred with him or more. When the line of cavalry appeared through the gates. A great wave of relief went over Tyrion when he saw the Blackfish leading them with Arya Stark on the front of his horse. Lord Harrold Arryn was only a few horses behind him and the man flashed a bright smile when he saw Tyrion. But when Aegon rode in with Rickon Stark on his horse, Tyrion's eyes were drawn to his left arm, which was held up by a rough sling that looked like it was made from a torn woolen tunic.

After the group had made it to the center of the dirt yard, Tyrion wasted no time in moving to Aegon's side. "Gods, what happened to you?" The Targaryen struggled to climb down from his horse with his one good arm and after he did so he helped Rickon down from the dark steed.

A stable boy took the reins from his King and led his Dark away to the stables. "I'll tell you all about it later." He still seemed angry to Tyrion over Lord Piper, and he did not look at him when he said it.

"The Dornish are going to be here today. Princess Arianne is very excited at meeting you, it would not be proper to hold off the meeting." He knew that the Dornish would reluctantly consent to a delay if Aegon could not meet with them, but it was not preferable.

He saw Aegon's head nod and then he had turned to Marwyn and all three started to walk towards the Kingspyre Tower. "No, I'll meet with them. When they arrive, just send Pod to come and find me and we can all take a stroll through the godswood." It was a good idea, and it was a place that Tyrion was sure Aegon planned to use to charm Princess Arianne Martell.

The Blackfish and the Stark girl had already descended down from their horse, and both were over by a basin of water near the stables were cleaning the dirt and muck from their faces off. "Do you care to tell me what happened?"

The Blackfish turned to Tyrion and threw a brief and fleeting look down at Arya who still had her back turned and was still cleaning herself. "We encountered that pack of wolves and the damned Brotherhood without Banners. My niece is dead, as is that wildling woman Osha." Tyrion would be lying if he said he would shed tears for the Lady Stoneheart, but he did feel great sympathy for the Stark children. Though to the girl's credit she did not even react when her great uncle brought up her mother. "I'll need to bring Catelyn's body back to Riverrun for her funeral at the soonest time possible."

It was a reasonable request and in truth Lord Yohn Royce would not mind continuing his leadership of the bulk of the army. It was a position he was meant for in truth, and the only thing that stopped Tyrion from suggesting it to Aegon was the truth that the King had intended for Lord Royce to help lead the Vale after the war, along with Sansa. "That can be organized, but is it truly wise to shirk your duties as the master of war even further?"

That served to anger the Blackfish and with a heavy grunt he informed him. "If you have a problem with that as the Hand of the King, then go speak with the actual King on it it, because he has already granted my request." The old Tully Knight pulled his grand niece along after him and they themselves turned towards the Kingspyre Tower where the Blackfish's own chambers were.

"Did you hear what King Aegon said?" Tyrion asked Pod who then nodded his head. After getting a flagon of wine and having several chairs brought up by soldiers, he and his squire settled in on top of the main gate to the ruined castle and waited for the Dornish to arrive. "Have you been keeping an eye on Edric?" Tyrion asked after a short bout of silence where both of them simply stared out at the field of tents and pavilions that surrounded Harrenhal.

"Aye, he's still been visiting Melly at midnight, my Lord. She brought a friend called Barra with her the night before, but I declined and waited outside until they finished." Pod's cheeks were turning red at his retelling and Tyrion knew it was the worst possible position for Pod to be in. But He needed someone to keep an eye on the coming Lord of the Stormlands, and Pod was turning  out to be a favorite companion of the boy. This Melly girl was quite a charmer and very picky from what Tyrion had been led to believe, and it seemed like Edric was the only one she allowed between her legs. "She brewed moon tea just like she always does." Pod remembered to tell him after a long pause.

That was the biggest problem Tyrion had began to find with the boy. He could be a bit arrogant and proud, but nothing he had not come to expect from boy's of that age. But Aegon himself was very adamant that Edric not father any bastards and end up like his father, which left Tyrion with the task of watching after the girls the boy beds to be sure that does not happen. "Good, and be sure to keep a close watch on Edric."

They did not speak again for nearly an hour and Pod had refilled the flagon once already in that time. When they saw the sun and the spear banner coming up over the far horizon, Tyrion knew it was finally time and that the Dornish were here. "Shall I go fetch the King?" Pod asked and had already gotten to his feet and was rolling on the balls of his feet.

Tyrion removed himself from his rather comfy chair and gave Pod the order he waited for. "Right away, and tell him I'll meet him near the gates." Pod ran off down the stairs while Tyrion finished off his cup of wine before following after him down the long and obscenely high staircase to the obscenely high walls of the castle. The courtyard had already woken up sometime earlier while he sat up on the walls and it was even more frantic and chaotic now that they were preparing to welcome the Dornish. The walk to the godswood was one he shared by his lonesome besides for the four Swannguards who followed behind him silently. It was calming however and it gave him some time to collect his thoughts and prepare for what was coming. When Aegon met him there, he noted how the Targaryen dressed himself up in a blood red woolen doublet with long and wide sleeves. "Are you up to this?" He asked as they waited for the Dornish, as he noticed how Aegon's face never once shifted during the whole walk towards him as if he was doing all he could to hold himself together and show nothing of how he truly felt.

The silver haired King shook his head and rolled up the left sleeve with his right hand and showed Tyrion his arm, which was bandaged from his bicep to wrist and he wore a brace of hard leather over his elbow which secured his arm and made stopped it from hanging. "Marwyn cleaned it to the best of his abilities. Hurts like fire as you can imagine." With his sleeve now rolled back down, he had to admit that Aegon looked normal and every bit the King he needed to be today.

"Are you sure you can manage? I don't want you to risk worsening it."

"It's fine. I just need to get this over with." He exclaimed and then bit on his lip hard when a cool breeze blew past them.

It was only a few minutes later when both men finally spotted the group of three men and four women. Leading them was short and buxom black haired woman with olive colored skin who wore a flowing dress of red and orange silk. Tyrion guessed she was Princess Arianne Martell and if she was, then rumors of her were true in every way as he himself could feel his own manhood reacting to the sight of her. Behind her was a girl of a similar sandy dornish look to the Princess of Dorne, except she was less beautiful and more pretty with a slightly big nose and brown hair instead of black. There was also the familiar face of Ser Daemon Sand who had served as squire to Prince Oberyn Martell in King's Landing and Tyrion could see the look of distaste in his eyes when he saw them both. Beside him was two other knights who each wore a serious look on their face that told Tyrion they would react at the first signs of any danger. In the back of the group was two younger girls, one was another girl of sandy dornish descent who had black hair pulled back in a tight braid and on her face was a dangerous smirk that reminded him of the one Oberyn once had. The second girl was one Tyrion had not seen in far too long and she wore a long golden shawl that obscured most of her face, but even so she still looked every bit as delicate and graceful as he remembered her being.

When the group stopped before Aegon, Tyrion, and their Swannguard, Princess Arianne's face lit up in excitement when her eyes landed on the King. "Your Grace." She exclaimed and then she and those with her bowed before him, though two of them hesitated before bowing. One was Ser Daemon Sand and the other was Tyrion's niece who first gave her uncle a quick and kind smile.

The Targaryen's false smile was dancing on his face, but he saw how Aegon's eyes lingered on Myrcella and not in attraction, but anger. "Rise, my honored guests." When he bid them, they all slowly returned to their feet. Tyrion knew that Aegon already had understood exactly what had happened and why Myrcella was here. Tyrion knew at the time he would not be happy, but he had no choice but to do this. The letter he had written detailed that the King required Tommen's sister to be brought to him as a hostage and the Martells complied very easily. He did not know what the Martells might do to her in an attempt to please Aegon, so in bringing her here he would protect her and with any luck she would catch the King's interest.

The introductions were thankfully short and when it was his nieces turn to introduce herself, she simply rushed to her uncle and hugged him. "I've heard the most disgusting rumors of you, Nuncle. Tell me it isn't true that you murdered Joffrey and Grandfather?"

It was only then that he could see past her shawl at the horrifyingly deep scar that went across her left cheek and not mention her missing left ear. "Of course I didn't, it was just a cruel lie. Would I ever do something like that?" He had to suppress his desire to demand the Martells tell him of where her scars came from, as it was very obvious that Myrcella was self conscious about them just by the way her hair was tussled to the left side of her head in an attempt to cover it up.

The King then walked over to them and waited expectantly for her to give him her hand, when she did so he politely kissed it and made the girl turn a bright shade of pink. "It is nice to finally meet you, I've only heard the greatest things about you from your uncle."

When she failed to respond, he did not waste anytime in chuckling and turning back to Princess Arianne. When they the two of them moved to take their stroll through the godswood, Tyrion noted how quickly the Dornish Princess had looped her arm through Aegon's bad arm and pulled him ahead a sizable distance from the rest of the group. He did not know if the dark and beautiful Princess could feel the arm brace or tell how much pain Aegon was in, but from how his back had stiffened, he guessed it was extremely painful. The two knights Joss Hood and Garibald Shells were next in the line and both watched the duo closely. While the three other girls gossiped and pointed the sights out to each other in the middle of the group. Which left Tyrion and Ser Daemon Sand in the back of the line in an uncomfortable silence.

He could tell from the occasional stares that Ser Daemon would steal that must have hated him fiercely. It took him a few moments to remember where he had met him from, but when he realized that the man was Oberyn Martell's former squire it made all too much sense. "It's been quite sometime, Ser Daemon."

"Aye, the last time I saw you, you were on trial for killing Joffrey Baratheon. And that was when Oberyn died, standing on your behalf against the Mountain." The disgust and anger was heavy in Ser Daemon's voice and his face soon matched his voice after Princess Arianne's laughter rang out.

Sadly for Ser Daemon, he had already revealed his weakness and it was only too easy to play him now. "We both know Prince Oberyn didn't stand solely on my behalf, he wanted vengeance and that was the easiest way to get it at the time."

"Tell me true, Lannister. Is he really Aegon Targaryen?" The Dornish bastard's voice rose to a high pitch when Aegon picked a blue flower and handed it over to the Dornish Princess.

Tyrion wanted to laugh at how uncomfortable this man must have been watching this, but he looked at the sword hanging at the Dornishman's hip and thought better of it. "He is, I could scarcely believe it myself when I first learned it."

"Then why didn't he tell Oberyn back in King's Landing? They would have sailed for Dorne that very night and crowned him in Sunspear and Oberyn wouldn't have died. Or even better, why didn't he seek out help any time in the years after Robert's Rebellion?" Ser Daemon was reasonably angry over the entire situation and had cause to be, but unfortunately Tyrion had none of the answers to the questions that the bastard put forth.

"I'm not quite sure, but mayhaps you can ask him yourself." As they neared the heartwood, the King and Princess Arianne stopped before it and he noted how the woman seemed to flourish near Aegon where most girls would stutter and blush. "He was very eager to meet, Princess Arianne."

Daemon cleared his throat roughly. "Your army is quite impressive." Tyrion nodded and was wondering when the man would bring this up. Prince Doran was known as two things outside of Dorne, a foolish man of low cunning and of being lazy, or of being a deeply vengeful and patient man who knew how to wait for what he wants. Tyrion always felt himself drawn the the latter idea for safety and it made sense that he would send a warrior who could assess their strength before they made any decisions on alliances. "But it has no Dornish troops and only those of river, vale, and claw."

"Are you offering them to us, Ser Daemon?"

The Knight shook his head and explained. "I have no authority to give them to you. Prince Doran sent me to council Princess Arianne and to assist her with whatever she needed. If you wish for Dorne to join itself to your cause, then you have need to convince her."

"It must be hard for you to watch the woman who you love fawning over another."

Daemon's reaction was nothing that Tyrion thought it would be and instead of getting angry and lashing out, he simply kept staring straight ahead at the Dornish Princess. "It is, but it's something I've grown to accept. I'm a mere bastard and she will either be the Princess of Dorne ... or she will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I was never a fit consort for someone of her birth."

"And yet even saying all that and justifying it to yourself over and over ... never helped the pain has it?" The Dornish man shook his head and Tyrion's thought's were drawn back to Tysha and when he exclaimed. "It's not always the lower born who suffer from loving those of high birth, Ser Daemon. Sometimes the highborn feel great pain from their love because they can't act or ever truly be with those that others say are below them."

"Please excuse me, Lord Lannister." Murmured Ser Daemon before he increased his pace to match the two other knights that guarded the Princess Arianne.

They had stopped before the weirwood with it's twisted face and thirteen deep slashes. Aegon had sent for his lute and after a guard brought it to him, he played 'The Winter Maid' for everyone in attendance and Tyrion himself had to admit that it was one of the best songs he had ever heard the King play or sing. All of the women besides Princess Arianne and Elia Sand had teared up at his rendition of the song and he found it impressive that Aegon had played it so well despite his bad arm which he had used to hold the wooden instrument up instead of strumming the strings. After they had all said their farewells, Tyrion had made plans to supp with Myrcella later that night and talk of things. It was quite bold of Princess Arianne when she put a small kiss on Aegon's cheek as farewell in full view of everyone and he wondered if it was for herself, the King, or those who were watching.

The Targaryen's smile did not fade away until the Dornishmen were completely from view and when they were, he spun around to Tyrion in a fury. "What the fucks was that about? Why is she here?"

"I believe we had a meeting scheduled with the Martells for a moon now-"

"Don't play games with me! What kind of nerve did it take for you to sally up the courage to go behind my back like this?" He loomed over Tyrion and his fist was clenched tightly as if he meant to strike him down or contain himself at the very least.

He bit the inside of his lip and could not work up the courage to look Aegon in the eyes and he explained himself. "I wasn't sure what the Martells would do to her to impress you and-"

"So you went just went into negotiations for your own sake and used my name to do it?" The Targaryen's smirk widened and he looked as if he could not believe what he was hearing or saying.

"She is my niece, and she doesn't deserve to be killed or tortured because of her parents. You would have done the very same if you were in my position and you can't tell me differently."

The wild look in his violet eyes gave him a bit of a fright, but instead of striking him the King spun around and slammed his right fist into the trunk of the tree. "Don't you dare try to lecture me and act like you are in the right! Do you want me to toss her in a cell? Because you haven't given me much of a choice here. She may be your niece, but she is also Tommen's sister."

"You are the King, you don't have to answer to anyone." Argued Tyrion in determination.

His arm slumped down the tree and hung loosely at his side and when he looked back at Tyrion he had lost all of the anger in his face. "I'm not that sort of King, we have laws and we have rules that must be followed or chaos will follow it." Aegon bit his lip in deep thought and said after a few moments of deep thought. "She will be under house arrest for the remainder of the war, she may only go out with no less than twenty Swannguards who will answer solely to me."

Tyrion saw his next opportunity for his King and so he pressed his good fortune even further. "I also thought this would be the perfect opportunity to bring her here before you marry." Aegon's brow raised in confusion and so he stepped closer to him to prove his point. "I love you like a brother, Aegon. And I tell you now that you can not find a better bride than Myrcella, she's smart, kind, gracious, and you two are very alike in truth." He wished he could still use her looks to prove her eligibility to the Targaryen, but her facial scars prevented that from being true any longer.

"You call me brother, then you turn around and take advantage of my trust. And to your second proposition ... it disturbs me greatly how much she looks like her mother, and it disturbs me further that she may turn out like her mother." Tyrion meant to speak up in protest, but he silenced him with a cold look of hurt. "I know you must love her greatly otherwise you wouldn't have risked so much, but I decline your offer. Now if you ever do something like this again, I promise you on my family's name that you will pay and I will not look the other way again. Do you understand me, Tyrion?" For now he knew he had to admit defeat and that it would take sometime before Aegon would settle on Princess Arianne Martell and the marriage, so he nodded his understanding. "Now I have to go see my brother, it's been too long since I've seen Balon."

"Ser Balon Swann? What is he doing here?" Tyrion had wondered where the knight was, but he had not heard word or seen the man since his trial.

Aegon let out a chuckle and begun to walk away. "He was assigned to the Kingsguard to protect Myrcella soon after your trial and before I revealed myself. If you would have just been patient and asked me to help I could have had her brought to you silently and unbeknownst to anyone." The Targaryen King was nearly seven yards away before he stopped in his tracks and screamed back. "And with him we have the first member and commander of my Kingsguard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Make sure you tell me if you liked it or not, because it really motivates me to keep writing on when I read feedback from readers.
> 
> College work is really kicking my ass lately so I'll do my best to keep writing but for the immediate future I won't be able to work on the story as much as I have been in the past.


	49. The Sun's Daughter

Arianne:

 

 _Heavy panting, he always panted and breathed as heavy as an ox after finishing._ And just on cue, he did just that and rolled over beside her on the bed as the heat of his seed ran throughout her body. Daemon's pupils would always enlarge after exerting himself Arianne noted, even when they were still children and first losing their virtue. Though things in truth were never quite as sweet or fun since he had been spurned by her father for her hand. It was quite silly Arianne thought at the time, but as she grew she felt pity for the sweet fool he really was. "He seemed quite taken by me didn't he?" Arianne still could feel his eyes on her body and the subtle glances he would steal while they walked through that charming garden. It had been quite reassuring and she knew it would only be a matter of moons before they were wed now.

Daemon's grunt of anger made his feelings on the matter well known. When she turned to face him, he murmured. "What man wouldn't be?" It was the perfect answer that Arianne wanted to hear and she let him know that with a quick kiss on his very sweaty cheek.

"Soon he'll be sitting on the Iron Throne dispensing vengeance on our enemies and I'll be beside him." He was the spitting image of what she imagined her husband should look like and she knew he would look only the better when they were married. "I could convince him to appoint you to the Kingsguard I'm sure, he'll need at least one son from Dorne and your reputation as a great warrior precedes you." It would work marvelously as he would be her protector and bed companion when the King could not be.

"You would be willing to risk quite a lot. Would you put the realm in the same place as the one the Kingslayer and Cersei Lannister have placed it in with illegitimate children on the throne?" When Daemon said it, Arianne could not control herself and snickered aloud at his outrageous thoughts.

She placed her hand on his cheek to comfort him and explained slowly. "My poor sweet lover, you misunderstand me greatly. Any union we have will never result in children. My children will be nothing, but his and only his." As she said it, she knew she should have found better words as his face grew harder and angrier as she talked. When she finished, he turned onto his side and showed her his strong and muscular back. Arianne hated it when men would act so foolishly and then pout on it. "What do you expect from me? You're a bastard and he is a King and I'm a Princess of Dorne. These places are how they should be. I will be the King's wife and you will be my paramour." _Any man in the Kingdoms would kill for the opportunity he is being given on a golden platter and yet instead of thanking his fortunes, he simply sulks and complains._

"And I would be killed if he ever found us abed together, most likely a very long and gruesome death at that if the Targaryen wroth is well and alive within him." He was overreacting and underestimated Arianne's planning and spoke as if she had plans to never let her Dragon know about her paramour.

"He may find it strange that we Dornish keep lovers for the first few moons or even years of our married life. But he is a man and after I tell him of not only my blessing, but my insistence of him taking as many paramours as he wishes, I'm sure he will not bat an eye at us." Arianne was sure of her plan and if she proved wrong in her first thoughts of him, they could easily be rectified and modified before they were married.

Daemon however did not seem nearly as convinced as he should be by her plan and his voice expressed that plainly. "I don't see what you see that is so special about him ... granted he is beautiful, but he shook and paled just at your touch. That's not how a King acts, but how a boy acts and regardless of what the rumors all praise he is, I saw the truth with my own eyes today."

He did stiffen up and he had the lightest shade of pink on his pale cheeks when she kissed them and it made him all the more desirable in her eyes. "I happened to enjoy how he acted around me, it was refreshing to know that even Kings are still men under all of their titles and that they still have desires of the flesh." She savored the thought of teaching him all she knew of lovemaking and of how he would look undone and naked with her.

"Robert Baratheon was well known for his desire of young and supple flesh, and for wine and food." Daemon exclaimed as he shimmied down the bed and further under the covers to hide his body from the damned cold of the Riverlands. On their way from Sunspear to Harrenhal she had seen snow for the first time and had read of how fun it could be to play in as a child, but it was anything but fun and she hoped to never have to see or feel it again.

She did take offense to Daemon's words and she voiced his mistake immediately. "Robert Baratheon was no King, he was a child murderer and usurper who condoned the rape of an innocent woman." He had ordered the deaths of her aunt and cousin and for many years she also attributed Aegon's death to the man as well. The Gods however had intervened on her behalf and saved him so that they could be married and rule the country together just as it should be.

She had briefly wondered on her brother and if he had also succeeded in his own mission of marrying Daenerys Targaryen, it would be a pity when they returned to Westeros and learned that the true leader of Westeros was already there and married to a Martell no less. _Mayhaps they could live in Sunspear and she could be the second Daenerys in history to be a Princess of Dorne._  She did not know what true strength this Dragon Queen in the east had or if her dragons were actually real, but what was real was the army that Aegon had in Harrenhal. Ser Garibald Shells mentioned it looked to be nearly forty thousand strong at best and twenty five thousand at the very least. She planned to write to her father soon to tell him that it was finally time for the Dornish to go to war for their vengeance as they have found their Dragon.

"Do you think I'll be able to convince him to dismiss the Imp as Hand?" She asked Daemon in deep thought. She hoped to never have to see another Lannister in her court ever again once she became Queen, especially one so hard to look at as Tyrion Lannister was.

Daemon shrugged his shoulders and she felt his hairy legs brush up against hers under the thick furs as he tried to get more comfortable. "I'm not sure, if the rumors hold true then they say he was the Targaryen's first ally." He finished with a long long and loud yawn that Arianne felt expressed her own feelings very well after the long and arduous travel they made from home.

It was however just as she feared it might be. She did not know just how strong those two stuck together, but it could be broken just like anything else in the world. "That's a pity, but regardless I'm sure I could sway him to just about any idea after giving him our first child." Daemon had no visible or verbal reaction to that and simply stared up at the remarkable high ceiling of the room. "Did you find out anything else that I asked of you?" Her father made his second request of her very clear and she would not disappoint him on either of them.

Daemon seemed to be much more glad to speak of this then of her coming match to her Dragon and it showed in his enthusiasm to change the subject. "Aye, Robert's bastard by the Florents is here. He serves as the King's squire and rumor holds that after they take Storm's End he plans to legitimize the boy and put him in place as a puppet." Arianne's memory was foggy on it, but she had recollection of the name Edric and thought it would be perfect if he was just as lust filled and stupid as his father was. "And though this was behind even tighter held lips, I've heard some whispers of the youngest Stark girl being married to the boy."

"Well not all plans succeed do they? No one can be blamed if a girl wanted to marry another of higher birth, or if the boy had already found another he desired." Arianne felt a smirk growing on her lips and she knew that everything was falling so perfectly into her lap. "We will have to make sure Elia is on her best behavior and form before this Baratheon. I assume you'll be assisting me in that endeavor?"

"To the best of my abilities, aye. The Baratheon boy from what I've heard has a certain fondness for a pretty camp follower in the army camps. He always visits her on every night at the first hour of the wolf. With your leave I will go tonight." Normally Arianne thought it would be best to move quick and fast on this matter, but her last failure had succeeded in showing her that patience is a virtue in plotting and failure would not yield a second chance here. There was no protection guaranteed from her father anymore and this was the real game that she was playing now and not the small insignificant one she played in Dorne.

"No, it can wait for a night or two. I need to be sure that Elia is perfectly ready and accepting of her role so she can strike at the perfect moment and steal his heart." Arianne did not enjoy the idea of breaking a child's heart and ending the life of another innocent girl, but nothing could stand in the way of their plans and that included murder. "What about the Stark girl?"

Daemon chuckled and sat up on the bed and used the stone headboard to keep himself upright. "She's quite the wild one as you can guess. She seems an even wilder one than her aunt was if that handsome Arryn was speaking truths of their little adventure a few days past. It seems she convinced her mother and a group of outlaws to go chasing after a direwolf and that resulted in a few deaths that included her own mother." That sounded horrible to her and the Stark girl must have felt terrible if that was true. But the thought of her being anything like the whore of the North also meant she must have not cared who she hurt or killed.

 _Lyanna Stark._ The name was like poison and her uncle always treated it as such and over time Arianne begun to feel the same way. Her father had never voiced his own opinions on the women at least in her presence, but it must have been similar to her uncle's. "She'll be Trystane's problem regardless. Have you heard anything of how she is as a person?" No doubt her youngest brother would be disappointed when he learned that he would not be marrying Myrcella, but he would get over it eventually. He would marry whoever their father deemed fit and while she knew he would live regardless of who was chosen, she did hope her little brother got someone worthy of him.

At that question her lover seemed to be at a loss for words, but he did tell her. "At the moment she is a mystery to me, but according to a washerwoman she does not enjoy wearing dresses and prefers breeches and tunics." It sounded like Elia and Obara both, which would prove quite an contrast compared to the graceful and always courteous Myrcella.

After Arianne did not see fit to answer, she maintained her silence while thinking about her next move and then noticed how Daemon had slid back under the covers and closed his eyes. "What are you doing?" She asked her paramour in disbelief of what it looked like he was about to do.

He did not even see fit to open his eyes when he answered her question and his boldness was almost beyond belief. "Trying to sleep, unless you have further need of me that is?"

A snicker broke past her lips and she tossed the furs off his muscular frame and he immediately covered himself from the chill still lingering in the room. "You need to return to your own chambers, did you think we could sleep together? What would happen if a servant barged into the room early next morn and caught us abed together? Did you think they would keep it to themselves with a simple bribe or threat?" She did not know many things about Aegon yet, but she did know that it would strain their still budding relationship greatly if he learned of her being with another man on the very same night they had first met if it did not kill it immediately. And that was not to mention the shame these northern lords would try to subject her to for sleeping outside of a marriage bed she does not even have yet.

Daemon swung his legs over the side of the bed and argued back. "I could just kill them and claim it was an attempt on your life." He turned back to look at her with his truly handsome face with light brown stubble poking through his strong jawline that led to his smile that always came with his deep dimples. "Any one life is worth a night with you." She did not know how she had crossed the bed so quickly, but she did and her tongue pushed past his lips and his own tongue just as eagerly met hers.

It did not last long before the image of her Silver King flashed through her mind and eyes, so she pushed Daemon away. "You are the sweetest man I've ever known and that is why I plan to always have you by my side. But you really must go now." At her word he nodded his head and quickly clothed himself in the grey doublet and boiled leather that he had worn that day. He said no more words to her as he strapped his sword and dagger to his hip and surprisingly he still kept his silence the entire way of the room and did not voice his complaints again. She was happy that he was beginning to understand what his role would entail as the Queen's paramour as this was exactly what she would need of him to be in the nearing future.

After the cold breeze of the night sky swept through her room again, she retreated back under the heavy furs of her bed and let none of the skin not on her face out from under them. The room was quite large in truth and though it was not anything lavish or fitting of what a Princess of Dorne should be sleeping in. Even their pavilions were nicer than this, but she would make due and was not in any rush to insult her Dragon's kind hospitality as he had given each and everyone of them their own separate chambers in the Tower of Dread. It was the third largest tower of the ruined castle and while it did grant her a nice view of the surrounding area, it was not the Kingspyre's Tower where her Dragon was staying at the high peak. If she looked hard enough passed the fog of night, she could see a small glimmering of light from his room and she wondered if he was still hard at work.

However at the thought of his perfect jawline and beautiful eyes, her thoughts got far more interesting. She imagined how he must look alone and naked in his no doubt enormous bed and his chest looked when he breathed in and out. Then travelling lower she imagined the sharp curves of his abdomen and how it must feel to run her hands and tongue across him as his own hands sunk down to her wetness and the other played with her nipples. The image was serving her purpose quite well, though the thought of him glistening and shiny with water in the large bathhouse of Harrenhal was better. Her nipples had long pebbled and she was already well nearing her limit. Just the image of his face in shock as she silently joined him in the hot bath and took him by the head as she put him inside of her was more than enough to surpass that limit. Her moans were small and quiet and any she felt would be indecently loud were said into the furs that she had bitten into. It was the second time that night and although her body was tired from the road and should be more than ready for rest, she did not quite know if it would obey her desires. In that mean time however she planned to amuse herself with the names she would give to her future children and of who they would take after more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while ehh? Ahh well, he's a new chapter for my very faithful and patient readers. 
> 
> Some of you might be happy to know that the next chapter which will be the fiftieth of this story will be from the eyes of the Dragon King; Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of his name.


	50. Doubts of a King

Aegon:

 

 _How did he feel?_ Aegon wondered as he stared out at the small specks on the ground far below him that scurried about and did their duties. Sitting on the Kingspyre's bridge he shifted his stiff and uncomfortable feet and payed for it immediately as the stinging in his arm then grew unbearable due to the small motion. His arm was still held stiff and tied tightly with the leather brace Marwyn had put together for him and it seemed to have hidden his injury quite well unless the lords and courtiers were just being polite by not mentioning it and they did well not to stare at it for too long.  _Did he care that he sentenced countless men, women, and children to a horrible death?_ He knew about the curse very well as Marwyn had tried to give him frights with the tales of the curse when he was still just a boy, but it never worked as his teacher had already taught him of the true danger in this world being in men and not of legends.  _And I sleep in that very lopsided and accursed tower where Harren and his family roasted alive._

Aegon saw several banners being struck in the distance and surmised it was due to the wind which was blowing quite fiercely, and cold for that matter. "Did you care of how many you killed? Did you blink an eye?" He asked the wind foolishly as if he had hoped it would answer back, but it did not and it never would. "Most likely not ... you said dracarys and then the many screams followed it."  _Did he think it was justice?_  KingHarren the Black was known far and wide as an evil tyrant who callously enslaved and used up human life in the pursuit of his own vanity. Most called him evil and mayhaps he was.

"Robert Baratheon and his evil and murderous monsters are to blame." He had once said that to Marwyn many years ago after he childishly whined that he had no mother after getting jealous of the attention Meryn Grandison received from his mother after wounding his arm in the squire ground.

Marwyn was rarely gentle in his words or lessens and that time was no different. "You complain like a sniveling craven, is that what you truly are?" It was quick and just as hard as the man knew how to strike him. It always hurt, but it never once broke any teeth or his skin, just like always. A quick strike with the back of the hand to remind him that he was a King and Kings did not cry or complain. "What was it you asked of me?" When he would not answer and remain silent to wipe away any stray tears, his teacher would always restate the question louder until he did as he was bid.

"Teach me how to be a King." His voice had always been high-pitched as he struggled to hold back tears and that specific time he seemed to remember that his nose was also dripping at the time just like a sniveling craven's nose would and of what he was accused of being.

"And who did I make you promise you would never turn out to be?" That was one promise Aegon would never break for as long as he lived and it gave him strength and pride to remember it even now.

Sometimes he wondered if it was awful for a child to have such feelings and talk of a parent in such a way, but his father was dead and what did it matter in truth what he thought. "Aegon the Unworthy for his lust and desire of the flesh. Daeron the Young Dragon for his foolish vanity and bravado. Baelor the Blessed for his zealously and blindness to happenstance. Aerys the Mad for becoming evil and for letting his madness consume him." The last name stuck in his throat for the briefest moment and he had hoped Marwyn noticed not. "And my father, Rhaegar Targaryen, for his selfishness and obsession which put me in this very place and situation."

"Aerys was not evil, evil is not something you are or become. It's a label and accusation made up by men that they then use to attribute to the actions and people of an enemy." Marwyn was right and he only understood the truth in those words many years later when he was mature enough to actually listen and not simply nod his head.

"Seven years of age was not nearly old enough to understand the wisdom in those words." Aegon murmured aloud just as a stray branch in the distance snapped off from a dead tree and came crashing down to the dirt far outside of Harrenhal. It was on the bridge connecting the Kingspyre to Widow's Tower that he continued to study and watch the many lords, squires, servants, and soldiers work and toil below him. From the laziest man to the hardest worker; he could see them all and who of them deserved actual appreciation that they would most likely never receive in this lifetime. _Is this how all Kings must look at their subjects? From above, and judge down on them like some sort of God?_ He cracked a smile as he realized that it might be helpful if he could actually make out their faces from this high of a height, but the cold breeze up here was rather refreshing.

As a King he hoped that no one was looking for him at the moment so that fate would allow him more time for reflection and thoughts. But in truth he did not care if anyone was looking for him and if they actually needed to find him they did not have to look too hard. Aegon knew it was not kind, but he hoped it was not his cousin or her shadow Ser Daemon Sand.  _Anytime she pulls close to me it's another chance she will discover the brace and of my injury._ And that was what he knew he should only care about, but the pain of his injury would become unbearable whenever he even twitched and human contact was something far worse than that. It did not help that Ser Daemon would always stiffen up whenever she would touch him and that gave him even greater concern of his life being around the Dornish knight. It was impossible to admit aloud to anyone, but the truth was he could hardly fight a child if he tried his absolute best and the supposed best sword of Dorne was far out of his league while he was still in this condition.

The thought of those two together did serve to give his belly a quick lurch and his right hand shot to it in hopes of coaxing it away with a series of light rubs.  _Paramours._ He said over and over in his mind trying to get accustomed to the seemingly foreign word.  _Why do you swear yourself to marriage just to turn your back on them to be with another?  Do words and vows mean nothing in Dorne?_ He knew that she believed in her heart of hearts that she would be Queen, but could she truly handle those duties and was she who he needed to find? For all he knew he could have already lost her, it could have been a peasant, a Lord's daughter, or even Sansa Stark for all he knew. Though it did seem amusing to think that it would have been the one girl who hated him the most in this world and he felt Tyrion would find the same humor if he could tell him.  _  
_

Aegon knew it was just his heart speaking, and he could not listen to that part of himself when he was thinking as a King. "You're not a man, you're a King and a King must be more than a man and put his feelings above his decisions for the good of the realm." Aegon smiled for himself as he mimicked Marwyn's deep voice, but knew he was just being foolish.  _Many don't even meet their spouses until the day of the wedding and are complete strangers to each other._ Yet he knew it was wrong and so were they on the subject of lovers and paramours.  _We all must make sacrifices in life, and is it such an inconvenience?_ "Obviously it must be ... is that not right, Father? You had two healthy children and a loving woman who nearly killed herself to give them to you, but yet it was not enough for you." Just the thought of the man disgusted him to no end and to express himself and that thought he spat over the edge of the bridge for himself and then watched it land on the roof of the monstrously sized stables that must have housed nearly three hundred horses. "You thought you loved that girl, so you stole her and ran off to Gods know where to fuck her. Or mayhaps I give you far too much credit, perhaps you didn't love her and simply wanted to fuck her for a time before returning her to her family." Those words were unbecoming of him he knew, but they were words that always came so easily when he needed someone to blame.

He unsteadily climbed back to his feet and looked behind him and over the castle's walls at the clearing where the tourney of Harrenhal was once held all those years ago, when he was still just a babe at the breast. The very same tourney where the supposed Last Dragon passed by his loving wife and gave the honor of being the Queen of love and beauty to another. _But what is love if not a fruitless endeavor that always ends the same way? Alys Rivers watched her beloved do the dance over this very castle and then she watched him fall back down to the ground like a piece of rotten fruit._ Aegon reached down and felt the ornate handle of Dark Sister which comfortably sat at his hip and he was reminded that it was the very same blade that had killed Aemond One-Eye. _Daemon Targaryen himself loved the dragonseed Nettles if the histories were to be believed, and some of the smallfolk even claimed he lived passed the dance and reunited with her across the Narrow Sea._ But those were just foolish dreams and hopes that children and women loved to supp on in their dreams. _Someone is always pained in love, but I do hope she was worth it, Father._ It brought to his mind one of the many faiths worshiped by the Lyseni and of the dominant faith in the Summer Isles, which all had one thing in common.  _Love will save us all ... no this is what love brings to this world, simple death, destruction, pain, and sorrow._

The footsteps behind him where small and quiet and they were very fast. _I did not even hear the hum this time._ Aegon spun around in the idea of seeing the Night-Walker, but to his surprise it was the bright-eyed and auburn haired boy who reminded him so much of himself at that age. Especially the more he began to learn of him and of the facade of emotions he used to great effect on people. "Do you need something, Rickon?"

"No, I was just going for a walk, your Grace." It would have sufficed for an answer if it did not come from him, or if he did not care enough to question him.

But he did and it was obvious that if Rickon was going for a walk then he would not be here in the castle, but he would be with his direwolf and hunting something. "To the Widow's Tower? Is there something there you're wishing to see? Rather boring and bleak in truth, the only person of interest there is Boulderfist with his well ... boulderfist." It was a poor excuse for humor and the Stark boy shook his head at the first question so Aegon lightly chuckled at the joke by himself. Sitting back down on the edge of the bridge and letting his legs hang freely off the edge he patted the cracked stone beside him. "Come and sit with me, I'd like someone to speak with ... unless it interferes with your walk of course." The Stark boy did not waste much time at all before doing as he was bid and plopping down beside him and kicking his feet and back and fro into the breath of the cold air. "So tell me true, what is this I've heard about you not wanting to go to Riverrun with your sister and nuncle?" He had heard Ser Brynden mumbling something about it into his breakfast that morn and of how sad it was that the boy did not remember anything of his family or of how important it was for him to send off his mother's funeral boat.

Rickon shrugged his shoulders and it drew Aegon's attention to how long and ragged his hair really was. He imagined that the Stark boy would be resistant to having it trimmed or groomed if he let it get this long in the first place. He did not know when the time would come when he would be forced to cut it, either by Brynden or Sansa, but it would be necessary very soon if his Lord of the North was to look presentable to his betrothed. "It seems to me like you've already heard all there is to tell, your Grace." Rickon answered back without looking at anything in particular, but he seemed to be pretending that he saw something interesting in the far off horizon.

"Except for why you don't want to go. Your sisters would very much wish for you to be there."  _And it is what a man should do for his family._ But Rickon was not a man, just a small boy who has grown up far too quickly in this violent world and now is confused on how he should act. It held a dull pain for Aegon anytime the boy spoke and reminded him of what he once was long ago. _Verbal_   _practicality is the bane of social constructs._ Marwyn had told him as a child and like many things he was told at that time, he did not fully understand what it meant until he grew.

Lord Eddard Stark's youngest child answered quickly and without any seeming enthusiasm besides for the speed at which he spoke. "I don't want to, I don't know them and they don't know me."

"But you need to start getting to know them eventually. Your sister Sansa will no doubt be grief-stricken when she learns of your mother, and you being there will help her greatly I'm sure." _Or mayhaps I'll be blamed for her mother's death too and she'll accuse me of turning her only brother into this._ It never ceased to boggle him and as such he spent little to no time thinking about the new Lady Arryn. He had no time to ponder the minds of married woman, as he was not his father. After the wars all finally ended, she and her beloved Harrold would go back to the Vale and he would be her problem from then on thankfully. It would be a hard life and it would not be easy for her, he knew that and she must know that now herself he presumed. _She had the rare luxury of choosing her own fate and now she must live with the consequences, like we all must._

He had almost forgotten he was speaking to another person and his thoughts had strongly taken him due to the length of silence before Rickon spoke up again. "Are you commanding me, your Grace?" _  
_

_Clever boy._ Aegon had regretted his promise to Rickon of late the more he thought on it. How was he supposed to know the boy would not only remember, but use it against him to such great effect. He was simply trying to comfort a crying child who had lost his mother. "No, I'm not." It would cause a divide, of how great he did not know, but at the moment he did not see how it could be helped without breaking his promise. "If you wish to, you may stay with me for as long as you desire. I won't deny you a friend or home for as long as I breathe. That I swear on my house."

Rickon picked at a crevice in the stone bridge and loosened a small and dark pebble. "I do wish to stay and I accept your offer, your Grace." It had slowly irritated him, but now it was becoming rather entertaining how formal this boy acted and how obvious it was that his heart was in no way into it.

"You don't need to use titles when we are alone, Rickon. If you feel the need to refer to me as something then use my name, it isn't hard to say." Aegon watched as Rickon's small hand slowly lifted out over the bridge and lingered in the air.

The boy's hand looked to be loosening and it hurt his arm to move so quickly, but Aegon seized Rickon's hand before it opened and dropped the pebble on the people below. "I'll remember that, Aegon. And I wasn't going to drop it." He pulled his hand from Aegon's grip and dropped the pebble back in the crevice of cracked stone.

 _I wasn't going to pull it, Maester Marwyn._ He remembered his once high-pitched voice complain when his mentor had caught his wrist mere moments before he pulled off a loose thread on his doublet and ruined the stitching completely. "It's rather refreshing ... in a selfish sort of way." It was not a strange thing to do such actions as a child it seemed. Rickon's face then wrinkled in surprise and his bright grey eyes lost focus as he tried to interpret Aegon's ramblings. "Have you found your room to your liking?" But in truth it also seemed sad that Rickon was going through similar feelings that he himself had went through.

"It's too big, I don't need all that space for just me and Shaggy." It probably was too big, but it seemed like every room in the damned ruin was far too big for anyone to live in comfortably.

There was nothing he could do to alleviate Rickon's grievance and so he did not dwell on it long as a result. "Have you had any formal training with a sword yet?" The answer was probably no, but it did not hurt to ask and it may have seemed patronizing to presume the boys answer.

The auburn haired boy shook his head and his nest of hair stuck and tangled in some places where in others it freely draped over his shoulders. "I know how to swing a sword, but I don't know if you would consider it good enough." He did not know if that was a compliment or some greatly veiled insult on him being a so-called 'southerner', but he did not take it in either way regardless. "I'll learn whatever _you_ have to teach me."

That brought a deep laugh from Aegon's belly and it was even more humorous to him when he looked upon the boy's face which spoke of confusion and relative naivete at why he would laugh. "I'll do my very best, you know they say a sword is a warrior's heart and should be treated and as such." He was not sure if Marwyn had taught him that or if it was Balon or maybe it was Ser Ashter Storm, but he heard it from somewhere and it had stuck in his mind. Though in truth he always felt his heart pulled towards the very blessing and bane of his house which was always close by and pulsating with warmth, that was his heart. "Well, I will just as soon as my arm heals that is." The damned injury was still getting in his way, but he would not let it interfere in his fate further then it already has.  _It spoke nothing of an arm injury, so I must recover from it._ He hoped that he was correct, but he knew very well that shade-of-the-evening did not always show things that would come to pass. Sometimes it showed things that had already happened to others, and sometimes it showed things that never come to life, but it always showed something of value if the Warlocks of the east were correct. _So many visions, I watched my chest being caved in and I watched as I ordered thousands of men to be burned alive._ It was always something that lingered in the back of his mind and he never knew the correct way of going about it.  _It will be your greatest misfortune and you will break her heart with your duty._ The words of the one woman he had ever loved burned a hole through his mind and he felt like lurching out his breakfast, but he covered his true feelings with his warmest smile when he remembered that he was not alone. "How old are you, Rickon?"

"Eight." Eight years of age, he was only a few years older than Aegon himself was when being a child was no longer allowed and life was no longer lived for oneself, but for perfecting yourself for the role you were meant to and needed to take. No more playing childish games and no more shirking lessons because you did not find them _fun_. It was always a strange word even before he lost the privileges to what it entailed. How could anyone in good mind shirk their duties and responsibilities in favor of pleasure and _fun_? Harrold was the first person in his mind when he would think of what it looked like not to do your duties. Though in truth his uncle Oberyn Martell seemed to be that sort of man as well, though he still understood what it meant to have a duty to your family, he even died for it in the very end. Unnecessarily of course, but what difference did it make to think of that now and of roads not taken?

Sadly it did not matter even if Aegon tried to use Marwyn's wisdom in this situation, although he was right like always.  _You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children._ The voice was still as strong as it was that day and it never ceased to give him doubts on his decision.  _A Hand or an Uncle?_ It was not as simple as that and Marwyn had argued with him as such into the waning hours of the night, but it still made no difference and never would.  _Just another name to avenge and mourn._ And it was the unfortunate truths of life that the list would grow before he even took the damned throne. The gift Arianne had brought him had not made it any easier. "It was one of uncle Oberyn's favorites, I know he would have wanted you to have and use it." She had told him in a gentle voice while one of her slim hands patted the horse's nose and her other found its way into his own hand. It was a beautiful and red sand steed with a mane as black as the night was bred for pleasure riding and travel and was not made for combat. That suited Aegon just fine however as his Dark was a warhorse and should only be used as such even though it did not seem to mind whatever task it was given.

"That is quite an appropriate age to begin learning. I'm not sure how good of a teacher I will prove to be, but I'm sure your great uncle Brynden or my br- Ser Balon Swann would be more than happy to help you with anything I can not." Aegon tried not to struggle climbing back up to his feet, it was of course pointless and he knew that he must have looked as weak as a newborn calf with how his knees shook under his pain. Rickon followed him back to his feet and stood straight-backed before him, waiting patiently for whatever his next word was. "So you wished for me to let your great uncle know of your decision to stay with me?" The Stark nodded his head and it only added more weight onto his shoulders now that he had to do this.  _I'm sure his sister will feel she can do the same now if she just asks._ He had heard the rumors of how uncouth the youngest Stark girl was, and it did not seem to have much truth until she had decided she would chase wolves.

To her credit, Aegon had to admit that she was right in her assumption of knowing and controlling that monster wolf. Ser Bennard Brune had already begged him for permission to kill it and he even planned to make it into a cloak and give it to him as an early crowning gift. Ser Bennard had accepted the deny easily enough, but he did seem to have some arrogance to his step after declaring that it would prove its savage nature soon enough. Many Lords would no doubt be unhappy and even scared to hear of the beast's continued survival, but it had some intelligence inside of it. That much was obvious when it knew that he meant it no harm when he tried to lower his weapon, the eyes were the telltale sign until everything went to hells that night. "And if you even try to raise a blade to my Nymeria I will kill you myself." Her threat was still in place no doubt. He had to give her a begrudging amount of respect as she never showed any signs of fear even once and stood up for what she loved and believed without fear of reprisal or repercussions. Though she was in truth still just a girl regardless of how dangerous she seemed and with just a simple touch and misdirection he had flustered her like he had many others in the past. He hoped that she and Ed would begin to get along better, she was of a great bloodline and Edric would need someone like that assert his dominion over the Stormlands. Aegon knew however that in truth it could all end with a simple stab through the heart or slash across the throat if he displeased or angered the girl in any way and that would not do at all. She needed to agree to the match or it would be a death sentence for poor and foolish Ed. She was pretty enough and her bloodline was important which should be more than enough to convince Ed, but she on the other hand would need a miracle to love him it had seemed. Which was unfortunate.

Aegon dropped his good arm around Rickon's shoulders and led him towards the Kingspyre Tower. "I need to ask of you a favor that I should not ask. Two in fact, may I ask them of you?" The hum was low and just as painful if not more so than it had been before and he hoped the blood would not follow until he was alone. _Up and the third window to the right._ He wanted to wait for Rickon's answer before confirming his thoughts and obeying the tool that would help him control, lead, and in the end hate all the lords of Westeros.

"Whatever it is, I'll do my best, Aegon." It was truly refreshing to find someone who did not want anything in return and simply wished to be friends of equal standing. It seemed like no one around him besides for this small boy, who for all purposes should be opposed to him due to their families continued conflicts.

It was the perfect opportunity to let loose a loud chuckle and with it he threw his head up at the sky and glanced at the aforementioned window and it was just as he hoped it would be. The brown-haired girl was quite excellent at hiding and he would have not been able to spot her without the aid of someone who could not be hidden from. She seemed to finally be taking her responsibility to her family seriously and was watching her little brother very closely, which was refreshing to say the least. He hoped to keep an eye on the boy as best he could, but the duties of being a King would not permit him that much of a luxury and he knew even Marwyn had required help when it came to raising and teaching him. "I will have need of you to marry a girl of my choosing many years from now, can you do that for me?" The youngest Stark nodded his head without even a second thought to what that entailed.  _One promise taken care of, now it only needs to be made official._ "This next favor will not be quite so simple I fear. In fact it will be quite involved on both of our behalves."  _Don't._ The voice advised, but Aegon payed it no heed as it was not the voice he knew to listen to, but it was a different one of who he knew not.  _You know what you should do, it is quite obvious. Do what he would and save us all, oh great Dragon King._  "I need you to become closer to your sister, Arya. And preferably as soon as possible." _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped to release this chapter yesterday, but I choose completed work over shoddy work every time. Hope you all enjoyed this little glimpse into the self doubting mind of a frankly alone, but well meaning King. 
> 
> Next chapter will be from Arya's point of view.


	51. Seperation

Arya:

  
“And you’re just going to let him?” Her great uncle was daft and alarmingly so. Rickon was just a child, and yet they thought it fit for him to make his own choices, but why not her? "He _is_ going, even if I have to drag him by that scruffy hair of his." In truth his hair was almost longer than Sansa's was, though his was a darker shade and looked like it had not been bathed or trimmed it since she had seen him last.

Uncle Brynden was doing his best to lead her through the camps which were more than overcrowded, and the many tents and pavilions were obviously not set up in the mind of space or even practicality. He tried not to show that he himself was getting lost as he had already led them into two dead ends and had to turn them around. Harlys Foros was the man they were looking for, and if he was to say his name he would assuredly put the title 'The Supreme Commander of the Bright Banners' in front of it as if there was more than one commander in the mercenary order. Her great uncle had said he needed to deliver an order to the Commander of the Bright Banners who would be handling the outrider duties, but he did not trust any messenger to deliver it in good times due to the celebrations being held tonight in the camps.

"I agree with you." If he did then why was he going to let Rickon do as he wished? "I'll try to find him next morn before we leave. Maybe I'll be able to talk some sense into him ... or mayhaps I'll smack him on the bum and tell him he's coming whether he likes it or not." Uncle Brynden said with a slight snicker and a brief wink before leading her into a tent and then out the other side. It was obvious he was lost and it was hard not to be given the disarray in the camps and how randomly the soldiers had thrown up their tents and pavilions. Many seeming paths lead into dead ends and most soldiers had no mind left for giving directions due to their inebriation.

"Why did you just let it drop earlier and why did you not tell him then and there?" Arya asked in confusion.

"Truth be told I hadn't seen the scamp today. The King himself had called on me, and to say that him telling me of the boy's desires was the last thing I expected. The first would have been of him asking for me to stay and that would be followed by a request of strangling Harrold and putting him out of our misery." That sounded good to Arya, but the thought of her sister made her knew that could not happen. For better or worse he was her husband, she loved him and as such Arya knew that she had an obligation to keep him somewhat safe. Though breaking a few fingers or removing the instrument of his infidelity to her sister would suffice.

"And what did you say back to him?" Arya then wished that she had gotten closer to them earlier in the day to eavesdrop. Why Rickon would go to _him_ of all people to talk to had infuriated her. Was she not good enough for him? Did he think that she would not understand or listen? She would listen and help him with whatever he needed or wanted, and she would not judge him either which seemed to be something most around her failed at.

"Three cheers for the King of the Andals!" Screamed a slurred voice from an open ended tent that housed dozens of tables and what looked to be hundreds of opened casks of ale and wine. "And to victory!" Shouted a more foreign sounding voice that could not have belonged to anyone native to this land, Northerner or Southerner alike. "And to the ale!" Added an extremely high-pitched main who attempted to show off his horn of ale by thrusting it towards the sky, but either due to his loose grip or inebriation it had slipped from his grasp and spilled it's all over those near him.

Her uncle Brynden's grip tightened on her arm and he pulled her in front of him and kept moving her forward and away from the drinking and boasting men. It was truly laughable to her that he thought he was protecting her from whatever they said or did. They were drinking and enjoying themselves, she had seen far worse than men doing that. "There was not much I could say, he is the King and he didn't see fit to mince words with me on it. I just nodded my head and he went on his way, though he looked even more uncomfortable then I felt if truth be told."

That raised her ire, but it was not something she would lose herself over.  _A calm voice and inquisitive wording is much more useful than a thousand curses._ "So you just nodded your head and he went on his way? Did you even ask or try to protest with him?"  _What in the hells did it even have to do with him anyway?_ Did he not have more important things to be doing then getting involved with her family? Just because he did not a family doesn't mean he can barge his way into hers.  _Maybe that is why Sansa has kept away from him._

"This can be a lesson for you, one of many I plan to teach you in actuality. Choose you battles and choose them well. I wasn't about to make that my hill to die on, especially when there were better alternatives and safer routes for all intended." Her Uncle explained in a rather patronizing tone that was not appreciated at all.

They were close and Arya was thankful for that too. The famous banner of the Bright Banners, or infamous depending on which side of them you were on. It was flying high and cut a very striking contrast against the dark and cloudy night sky. Four men armored in colorful suits of splintmail enameled in blues, reds, whites, greens, and purples stood guard before the entrance to the rather drag pavilion that must house Harlys Foros. For all things considered on the surface he was a good man, loyal to the contracts he signs, good soldier and leader, very amiable and friendly within good reason, and was very generous with pay with made him quite popular with wandering sellswords. But the rumors Arya had heard of him in Braavos could not paint him in a different light. Rumors of dark magic and foul and exotic rituals followed him when it came to the underbelly of the cities he visited. 

"He drinks blood he does, prefers the taste of virgin boys if I remember right." Beth had heard from the mouth of a very drunk lace peddler to his dark skinned lover from the Summer Isles.

It was nearly four days after that, she had heard one of his subordinates gossiping to a street courtesan he had just payed for. "Flesh is what he desires and spends his hard earned coin on, not like most men I tell you. No-no, he likes the taste and thinks it makes him strong and keeps him young to eat the innards of the healthy."

Some doubted it was true and thought it was simply foul rumors spread by his enemies to find a fault to pick at the man's virtue. That was what Arya thought, until the unfortunate man who whispered it too loudly had disappeared. Where to she did not know, or want to for that matter. "Good evening, Lord Tully, is the Supreme Commander expecting you?" Asked a man in blue enameled helm molded to look like a bear.

"He is, but tell me Is he well enough to speak on strategy tonight?" It was her uncle's polite way of asking the men if their leader was too afflicted to stand on his own power which seemed to be the case of one of the colorful four guarding the pavilion. It was a rather lanky man who had been leaning heavily on his halberd, and right behind him partially hidden was a rusty flagon that Arya presumed was not filled with water.

"Aye, our Supreme Commander never drinks when he has duties to fulfill. Go right in, M'lord." With that said the men then moved from their way and the one with an eagle helm held the pavilion's flap open for them.

Her uncle ushered her in before himself and to Arya's surprise the inside of the tent was filled with the pleasant smell of lavender. The Supreme Commander Harlys Foros was leaning over a heavy looking table of oak and peered up at them from a colored map of cloth that provided a detailed view of the Crownlands. He truthfully was an ordinary man in stature and build, not too tall or too short and he kept his ginger colored hair clipped very short. His sword belt was hanging on stand a few paces away and Arya made note of any other places he could be hiding weapons in case there were plans of deception. It didn't seem likely due to them already being on the winning side and it was said they had no broken one contract since being lead by Foros, but Arya had seen sellswords turn sides before and she would not let any of the harm fall back on her family this time.

"Ahh, Lord Tully, I began to worry if you would be joining me tonight after all." He said so with audible mirth and lightness to his voice as he threw a friendly smile towards her uncle.

Uncle Brynden stepped forward and thrust his hand out to the leader of the Bright Banners and the other man wasted no time in returning the kindness. "Please, Brynden is quite enough. I'd rather us speak on equal terms without formalities."

"Of course, Brynden." Harlys' warm brown eyes wavered on her uncle's face for the polite amount of time before they moved to Arya herself. "And may I have the honor of knowing your name my good lady?"

Her Great Uncle Brynden then dropped a hand on her shoulder to ease her and as a warning to remember his instructions which she did very well. "I know you don't trust anybody, and I'm sure you like even less than that." He had paused in thought and it was obvious the words did not come to him with any ease. "Your mother once told me that you were born with a scowl, at the time I could not fathom what she meant by it, but I think I am beginning to understand now." The next pause had been longer than the first and Arya was about to speak up to break the uncomfortable silence and mourn for her mother before the grey haired man got back to his original thought. "But I need you to use your best manners and play the part that others are expecting of you. It may not be who you are and you may not like it, but the truth is that we cannot afford to make anymore enemies. We are a wounded family right now, both Stark and Tully alike."

Arya understood that they were not in the greatest of positions, but they did have Harrold Arryn and the Vale that rode behind him. She also knew that it was not enough however and that she should not unnecessarily offend those around her, be they deserving of it or not. She knew how to play a role and this one was not one that she would struggle in, she had years of watching her sister as an example.

"This is my grand niece; Arya of house Stark." At her uncle's words the Sellsword Captain stiffened up and then after his warm eyes squinted and darkened.

It was without pause that Arya did her best curtsy and while she was sure it was far from the norm that most highborn girls could perform, it would do for this man. She needed more free time to practice it and perfect it for her role as a 'lady' that everyone expected of her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She said with her sweetest voice and felt like an absolute cunt to boot, how others could act and speak like this without hurling was beyond her. She briefly wondered who decided that woman should put on such pleasantries while men like her uncle and this man could speak openly without titles? It was a slight solace that whoever the man or woman was had already died and was far past the stage of feeding worms.

"Would you like me to receive you a seat m'lady? I'm sure the long walk from the castle must have been tiring." She did not know if that was veiled sarcasm or if he really thought it was that far of a walk, or mayhaps he just thought it was too far of a walk for her.

Regardless of which it was, it rubbed her the wrong way and she felt compelled to bite her lip lest she break her role already.  _Why am I losing my composure so easily?_  She wondered to herself as she had dealt with and been forced to swallow more disgusting acts and infuriating words than any he had used. "No, I am quite fine, though, thank you for your concern."

"Well now that the bloody pleasantries are out of the way, shall we begin?" Her uncle asked, though it was more of a statement as he wasted no time in retrieving a rolled up piece of parchment from his belt and placing it in Harlys' hands. Leaning over the table and giving one quick look and then point at a castle labeled Stokeworth that had a faded white lamb beside it. "We will not need to worry ourselves about these lands. What you will be in charge of in my stead is the capture of Rosby's castle."

Arya felt unneeded and simply standing there and found her way over to a closed barrel of what she knew not and sat on it while watching the two men discuss strategy with some interest. "Do we plan to go around Stokeworth? It is on the Kingsroad and from what the Hand of the King has told me, it does has the means to supply half of King's Landing for at the very least three years. We will need every scrap of food we can if we mean to siege an entire city."

"That will be handled directly by the King, we have hopes of convincing Lollys Lackwit to surrender to us peacefully after she sees that she is surrounded and utterly hopeless." Arya remembered the grotesque fat Lollys Stokeworth from when her father was still alive. She had felt some sympathy for the woman when she saw her and even more when she realized how utterly simple the woman was as she could not even tell when others made fun of her. It would not be much of an accomplishment to trick her into giving up her castle, if that failed then after a week long siege without a means of more food would break the woman's resolve.

Harlys Foros let a small snicker pass from his lips and tapped the lamb's head with his crooked forefinger. "Regardless, from what I've learned the castle is not anything that could hold a siege out against us for any longer than a few hours if we charged the gates."

"The King is confident the gates will be opened peacefully one way or the other. But you need not worry about that, we need you and your men to capture Rosby-" Her uncle then squinted and traveled his finger along several roads leading to Rosby in deep thought.

Their talks had captured her interest for a time, but after they moved on from the battle formations and fortifications of Rosby to their supply lines and of morale; Arya could not care less. She hopped off of the barrel and felt something sticky clinging to the bottom of her woolen dress. After touching it and bringing the sticky substance close to her face she identified it as pitch and in futility wiped it off on her hips. "I'm going to get a bit of fresh air, I'll be back in a short while." She tried to say it monotonously hoping it would slip by her uncle's notice.

It did not. "Stay within sight of the tent, and so help you if I see you are not near when I look." He spun around to face her as he said it and his voice was filled with all the iron she had grown accustomed to. It was a fair request and without need to think on it she nodded her head and slowly paced back through the flaps all while feeling his eyes on her back; watching every step that she made closely.

"M'lady." Hiccuped one of the guards in blue armor just after he pulled a dark brown wine skin from his lips. As her eyes darted to his face she saw him drop it behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the truth that he was drinking tonight as well, though in truth he looked to be in the best form compared to his comrades as one man in red armor had already slumped to the ground and looked barely conscious.

After politely nodding her head in his general direction she moved on from them and towards the main attraction of this evening in the camps. She had heard a servant who drew her bath talking about it to some silky bearded man who smelled of onions earlier in the day and it seemed everyone was in high spirits in anticipation of night falling. The cheers of all things ranging from house loyalties to village loyalties and even to things as trivial as ale or wine was discussed loudly and joyously amongst the soldiers. Though the sight of a noble born son or squire was also a strangely common sight and many of the lords she had seen at the wedding were even in the camps and adding to the merriment in between drinks and kisses to the camp follower or whore they had chosen for that night.

She had walked for what felt like several hours and the rows of tents never seemed to end, all of them nearly identical of course. Most banners she could find gave her no real indication as to where she was, the Royce banner flew besides the black toad of house Vypren and beside that was claw of house Brune. The sight of the bear claw filled her with the foul memories of how callous Bennard Brune spoke of rape and pillaging. He was well on his way to making it onto her list and the only thing that had stayed her mind was the insistence from the Imp that it would create more problems than whatever riches they could take would solve. "We have the people on our side, Ser Brune, and I know we cannot afford to lose that now that we are so close to our goal." The Imp had spoken in a very condescending way as if he was the only man capable of realizing that truth. Could they simply not keep it in their pants long enough to pay some whore? Or mayhaps that was the problem, they did not want to pay for it and as such they still figured they had a right to take what they wanted just because they could. It was an attitude that had been proven all to common to her and only solidified further. How Southerners could be so foul yet spoken so highly of and praised as chivalrous defenders of the good disgusted her even before she knew the truth of them. The only men she ever knew who could claim to be all of things were Northerners, yet the south had dug it's poisonous claws into her sister from a young age and they never let their grasp loosen.

She had been shaken from her deep thoughts as she found her way into a colorful tent of silk that had what looked to be cloth walls separating corners of the room. The scent of wine and something musky smelling and foul infiltrated her nose and it was very apparent what this place was after a tall and skinny girl walked by her in the nude with only a wooden tray of goblets on her person. It looked to be of a much higher quality of establishments, most camp followers and whores went back with their customer to their tent or whatever quiet and secluded place they could find, but this place reminded her of a roaming brothel complete with guards and women sitting around trying their best to entice the next man that stumbled in half drunk and full pursed.

It almost seemed like a pleasant place to catch your breath she thought, as it had it's own casks of wine and ale, if not for the sounds of creaking cots, grunts of drunken men, and the smells that made her stomach turn. She wished she had never come into the pavilion however after she spotted a pair of black haired men wearing the falcon of Arryn on their chests. She almost felt like laughing and then crying and soon after she settled on anger that her uncle would have called cold fury. Did he not have self control or did he simply not care? It really could not have mattered less to Arya at that point and the only thing on her mind was the thought of how her sister's traitorous husband would look after needle entered into his throat and he drowned on his own blood. The true pity was that her uncle had forced her to leave needle back at Harrenhal as he said she would not need it, but he had not checked for her dagger and that would do if need be.

He did not take long or she had caught him late into his shaming of her sister. "Come boys, you did not need to go without on my behalf!" Harrold had boomed out in his usual voice that always seemed to waver as if he was preparing to explode in laughter. His men seemed to have more decency than he did as they to averted their eyes as the two woman he had been with followed him out of the separated room without a shred of clothes on. It seemingly gave her a numb feeling when Harrold delivered a powerful slap to each of the twin's backsides which was followed up by another loud burst of laughter from the sandy haired bastard who _claimed_ to love Sansa.

Arya could not stomach him any longer and departed through the backside of the tent, but not before spitting several times in a tray of wine that she hoped Harrold would find. She had no idea where she was going, but anywhere would be better than here. The dark tower of the Kingspyre could be seen over the tops of the tents and she settled for moving in that direction until she found something else of hopefully better interest. Unfortunately the innocent merriment and drinking of earlier in the evening seemed to experience a slow death as now the dangerous pastimes were beginning to surface. Gambling and betting on fist fighting had started up strong near the Blackwood and Hardy banners and she had seen one dagger drawn and an accusation of cheating near a table where they threw dice. Many of the faces she had seen earlier in the castle were around and to her amusement as was Edric who exited from a smaller tent of grey with a smile that rose to his eyes. It would be just like Sansa to force her to marry someone just as a bad as her own husband. Misery loves company she believed the saying went, but it turned her stomach in the most foulest of ways.

She knew that she had been gone for far too long already and the longer she stayed the more risk her uncle Brynden would discover she was in fact not just getting a fresh breath. Yet, she felt compelled to watch and wait. Mayhaps it would yield a credible source of leverage over Edric and even enough to control him, putting an end to Sansa and the Targaryen King's plans before they could even begin. His bed companion was reasonably attractive in a rotund way, but her breasts were huge and undoubtedly drew all eyes to them and hid whatever flaws her face contained. The log she was sitting on was shared by nearly a dozen or more soldiers and many of them were drunk and could not control their voices which made it quite hard to tell exactly what Edric was saying to the woman, and Arya did not know what it was but the woman looked very familiar.

"Are you sure you don't need anymore? I have plenty to spare." She could clearly define Edric's voice out over the other distractions and without waiting for the woman to respond he had reached into his purse and retrieved twin silver stags.

The woman however shook her head and closed his palm around them and gave him a gentle smile and tittered. "I have more then enough of your money, my sweet Edric." It was a strange thing for a whore to refuse easily offered coins in Arya's experience, but that was not foremost in her mind. At that moment she placed the voice and face to the serving girl who Harrold had been groping at Riverrun and that fact made it even better. Not only did she have an argument to raise to her sister against Edric, she would also be able return a debt. An offering for the Many-Faced God would be made tonight, she had stolen a life from him and now it must be repaid.

Edric left after a few more moments of shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet seemingly nervous, only to leave after receiving a kiss and giving Arya a name to attribute to the woman in his haste. The men's stares around her were an early tell that she had stayed in one place too long and in that mind she relocated herself to squatting between two barrels of water that no doubt would go unused tonight. The woman Melly must have considered herself something special as while she did converse and jape with many of the soldiers she always slapped their hands away and they never raised the subject again. _Mayhaps the price was too high or she just considered them below her?_ Arya wondered and after receiving a bowl of boar stew and a small skin of wine she returned to her tent; alone. Two ways were presented to her at that moment seeing time was an issue; sneak in and end her before she knows what has happened her simply walk into the tent and pretend to be lost and scared. Many of the people around her seemed off and the number of foreigners slowly making their way throughout the area stealing glances towards her target's tent kept her wary of moving any closer.

One of the most suspicious looking and acting men had a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, but his sword and dagger was the main source of Arya's concern. Even with her needle she knew that she could not kill this man in a fair fight and even worse was that he had three others, all equally armed with him. It was risk that she would miss whatever they were planning, but Arya knew she would have to go the long way around the camps to reach the backside of the whore Melly's tent. Thankfully it was at the end of the eastern camps and there were not many tents or people in her way to distract or hinder her. By the time she reached the back of the tents she could clearly hear a rattling and some commotion inside of Melly's tent. There were not many places to hide and the only real option she could find was in the grass and hoping it would be enough. She did not know how long she was hiding in the dirt waiting for whatever was going to happen to happen, but when it did, it only raised more problems and questions.

"The bitch is heavier than I thought!" Complained a man with a dark brown face who had a sack slung on his shoulders. The blue eyed man and fair skinned man tightened his grip on the handle of his sword and peered around the scarcely populated grasslands nervously before gesturing them forward and towards the clearing between the camps and the forest line.

 _Why would they take her?_ Arya wondered, as who was she but a whore who shamed her sister on her wedding day? Regardless of their intentions they had stolen her offering and that would not stand and would not. They did choose the perfect moment to make their move though, as nearly everyone who might question what they were carrying was already far past their limitations for cognitive thinking and they most likely would not bat an eye at a squirming sack being carried by a group of hooded men. They were heading for the treeline and with only the odd tent and dimming fire there were not many places to hide in case they saw her, but she was sure she could outrun them if they did spot her and she had a need to know what this was all about. As they stepped out of open view, Arya hopped to her feet and sprinted in their direction only to feel a fast and strong force slam into her side and knock her back first into the dirt.

He was light and though he had surprising strength it was not hard at all to turn the situation around and soon she was on top of her attacker. She had gone as far as drawing her knife and pressing it to his throat before she looked at his bright eyes that once matched her own. "What in fucks name are you doing out here?" She panted out as her little brother squirmed and struggled under her weight in futility.

His eyes shot down to the blade that was a hairsbreadth from his throat and in response Arya pulled it from her blood's neck and returned it to the cuff of her boot. She however did not refrain any of the strength holding him down. "I can ask you the same thing." He grunted out and then continued in futility to break her grasp.

It amused her a tad that even when overpowered and thoroughly defeated, he continued to struggle and fight just like she would if she was in his position. _What harm would it cause to tell him._  "I was following those men." It was a simple response that answered his question and not anything more than he did not need to know.

She had to give him a light shake to loosen his lips, but he relented and answered in the same kind she herself did. "As was I."

The snapping of a twig or branch behind her was the only sound she needed to hear. Without any hesitation and with the grace and speed her own Nymeria boasted she spun around and drew her knife on the new intruder. This one was far larger than any of the men that had went into the woods. He was thick across the chest with muscle and he may have had brown eyes, but she did not focus on his face; only his neck. She had however not anticipated her brother kicking her leg out from under her and the big man catching her by the wrist. It was a grievous mistake on her part trying to strike when another was in her blind spot, even her brother should not be exempt from that rule and he proved it. The Kindly Man would not have been pleased to see that and she would be punished. Arya did not have anytime to struggle before his hush voice begged her. "Please, Lady Stark, calm yourself." She did let her arm slack even after Rickon had climbed back to his feet and moved to the side of the large man. "I've been warned of your disposition, but I must ask that you allow me to handle this, my Lady. I know Lord Tully would not be pleased to know his grand niece is running around the camps, now if you return to him I swear on the Seven that he will never know." His voice was hurried and it was apparent that he was in a rush to get rid of her as soon as possible and go after the other men and her offering.

Unfortunately for him, she would not be pushed aside and blackmailed by anyone. "No." Her simple word of refusal had caught him off guard greatly, and with her free hand she struck at his locked elbow with her fist and he released her wrist momentarily. When she turned to flee, she hardly got off the balls of her feet before his strong arms had wrapped around her throat and lifted her off the ground. His forearm deftly passed just below her chin which removed biting from her options. He obviously had younger siblings that he played with as children and overpowered which would explain his nearly unbreakable hold to the unarmed, but she was not unarmed. As she went for her dagger, Rickon moved with all the quickness she expected from her brother and would have been proud if he had not pried her blade from her hand.

Their struggle had attracted the attention of several other figures that ran to their side in short order. "It seems, Brynden, has somethings to answer for this night." His voice had come from under the hood of one of the newcomers and she did not know why it surprised her as he seemed to have a knack for finding her in these situations. "Let her go, brother. I'm sure she knows running won't do any good now." It was without pause that the thick and muscled arms slowly placed her back on the solid ground again and it raised a questions of who this 'brother' was. The Dragon King's eyes flickered to Rickon and then back to Arya before his mouth opened and spewed forth with rather cold fury. "So will you care to tell me why in hell you are here in the camps, and not back in Harrenhal sleeping ... my Lady?"

"I could ask you the same, _your Grace_." She said with hopefully apparent disdain. If it was not for him she would not owe a life to the Many-Faced God and she could have already been back at the Bright Banners' camp. "I'm sure your soldiers would be overjoyed to know that their King walks amongst them disguised." He had utilized that very disguise in Braavos many a time and it worked well as long as he kept his hair from sight.

Aegon however took her tone just as she had meant it and after struggling with his left arm to remove his hood, his eyes flashed in anger just before he turned to the trio of men accompanying him. Without a word exchanged they took off towards the woods and strangely enough the trio were unarmed and the thought of telling them of the targets' weapons was briefly present before dying a short life. "I don't believe I need to explain myself to you. Matters not though in truth, and I don't have time this night to play games with you." Looking up and away from Arya to the bigger man he had called 'brother', the Dragon King spoke again. "Escort both of them to the castle and assign four guards on her door and one to watch her windows. Tonight is not the night for children to wander from the safety of their beds."

The sting of his name calling had been felt immediately, but Arya would not give him the satisfaction he sought by getting cross with him just as a good lady would in her place. She knew this would be the hardest role she had ever taken and she felt several missteps were already made, but she would correct herself and learn from them. This was no longer an easy game with simple players she was dealing with, her father had contended with a similar group in King's Landing and his mistake was to play at all and to play their game at that instead of his own. The players may have changed, but their motives and endgames remained ever the same and this time she would not let her family be on the losing side. "What will you do?" Arya asked hoping to perhaps start a conflict between the two men, the larger one called 'brother' obviously experienced some hesitation in the orders he was given and she for certain would have felt the same if her brother was in that poor condition.

Unfortunately he did not fall for the bait, but her own brother Rickon was the voice of argument in his place. "Why do I have to go back? I can shoot any target at twenty yards." His voice was a little louder than it needed to be, but it was reassuring to see he could show real emotion when angered.

"Or we could all go and work together to hunt them, or you could just let me go and I'll handle them myself." She knew the latter was a long shot, but she knew Nymeria was close and would be more than enough help especially in the dark where minds frequently quaked at the smallest foreign noise. These men were nervous to begin with and judging by their accents they were not native to the Riverlands and the sight of her Nymeria would be more than enough to break them off into different directions. She would have had to bury the bodies or let them go of course, as she knew many of the supposed allied lords were looking for the first excuse to pin blame on Nymeria.

The Dragon King's laughter was the last thing she expected however and that made her realize it should have been her first guess. He had a very uncomfortable way of breaking an expectation for simple amusement. If it was his honest reaction a falsehood was still too hard to determine as the only tell she had found on him was when he talked fast and slurred his words excitingly. "Your uncle and sister would both not be very approving of that I feel. Now I have some plots to thwart, so I wish you a good night, my Lady Stark." His voice was airy and very sweet, it would have been nigh impossible to show anymore sarcasm in words and so with that he stepped away and bowed low at the waist before her with a flourish of hands.

She knew the target was lost this night and it would only invite more trouble for her sister and Rickon. It pained her to lose a offering so readily and free, but it could not be helped so long as she had her pack to protect. "How did you know this was happening?" it was the only question left in her mind and it piqued her curiosity, as there were far too many in his group for them to just have stumbled upon them.

"Call me clairvoyant, lovely girl." The man then turned from them and grew a steady pace towards the forest line. He had grown much more cautious in step than he had been before his injury, Arya noticed it easily now and knew that the fear of death was planted deep within him now where it had not been. It could save his life one day or it could make him hesitate enough to die. She had felt the same once and had come out better for it, but she knew some were not lucky like she was.

Ser Balon Swann was the name of the big man who had led them back throughout the camps, her brother had identified him and the name did seem a tad familiar and while not sure she felt he must have rode in the tourney for her father in King's Landing. He for all appearances seemed like a gracious and formidable man, visually he looked quite powerful and she had already experienced his surprising quickness and though it could not touch her own agility, it was more than enough to surprise a stupid knight. After telling him of how she was accompanying her uncle into the camps, Balon seemed to be much more pliable and was rather easy to convince to take her back to the Bright Banners' camps. He did not speak much and when he did it was an order for any blocking soldier or squire to clear from the way, that suited Arya fine as she simply was not too interested in him and focused her attention on Rickon who usually was quiet, had been much more talkative than the day before.

Rickon had divulged that they had come to visit the camps and observe the merriment at Aegon's insistence and they had in truth spotted her long before they spotted the Dornishmen who were kindly identified as such by Balon with a grunt and rather distasteful noise. She would have been lying if she was not a tad bit frustrated they had discovered her and not only did they do that, but they patronized her by not intervening. It was much harder moving around undetected in places where five out of ten know her face and her name, versus in Braavos where she could change her identity and role like a pair of clothes. The skill of truly changing faces was one that would be invaluable and it made her long for the time she returned and finally finished her training. The only thing holding her back was her family and she knew that she could never be nobody while she still held attachments to them and she knew she would always hold them until she was sure they were all safe. It was also quite nauseating and frankly irritating that Rickon so obviously favored the silver haired King and it only burned more so in comparison to how callously he spoke of their mother and family as if they were just some distant memory of no importance. The Dragon King however did seem to have a small side of caring it seemed, and he would do well to maintain it around Rickon or she would steal the debt back that she had forced onto herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been awhile, I've been pretty lax in my absence but I blame it on my general laziness, nice summer weather, and a library of games I bought on steam over the holidays and never played. I'm hoping to eventually get back into my old schedule of five chapters a week, but don't hold me to that as stuff happens.
> 
> Truthfully I also was a bit discouraged with how many bookmarks I lost after chapter 50 and I really felt like I made a mistake writing a chapter from Aegon's perspective. Though I've long moved past that now, so to all of you who kept coming back and checking for a new chapter during my absence; I thank you.
> 
> Also I know this will disappoint some of you, but the next Jon chapter will be awhile from now; my guess would be around the 60-ish mark. I had an alpha of it kicking around, but not only did I not like the way it was turning out, but I accidentally deleted it ... lol oops.


	52. Two Wolves

Rickon:

 

The Godswood of Harrenhal was a strange and almost foreboding place, it matched the castle it belonged to very well as the Imp put it. Osha had told him the Old Gods had no power in the south and yet he had seen more weirwoods in the Riverlands then he had seen in the whole of Skagos. Though the Godswood in specific was rather normal and could be considered quite nice in the daylight, it's appearance morphed into the things other children frightened from. The weirwood itself was respectable in size and only added to the sinister face it carried on it's trunk, it's visage was a terrible crooked smile of bloody lips that glistened in the moonlight. It shamed him to admit that it took him sometime to get over it and actually pray. He knew the King's court would be angry with him for sneaking out again tonight, but it had been so long since he had heard Bran's voice and he knew that if he tried hard enough Bran would find him.

The sun had started to rise in the east and his belly had began to tremble with either hunger or something else from not sleeping when he finally heard what would have been considered an illusion by others who had not heard and felt what it meant to be connected to the Old Gods. "Harrenhal." His brother's voice was different from how it was on Skagos, instead of hearing inside of his head it seemed to be carried on the wind, but from where he could not discern. "Arya." This time even Shaggy had lifted his head to the noise and looked around the Godswood in search of Bran. His black direwolf had joined him sometime in the night with his muzzle dripping a deep read from his prey that night, and it had irritated Rickon that his wolf did not find something for him and instead spent the night sleeping by his side. "Dragons will." The wind was especially strong this morning and Bran's voice was harder to understand then it had ever been before. "Stay close to Arya." It was quite clear and Bran understood perfectly, it was what he knew he had to do for all and now even himself if Bran was right. "You'll be safe, if you stay from winter." The voice was getting louder and Bran felt a distinct pull in his heart that knew it was impossible to avoid winter as it was coming just as their house words always predicted.

Those were the last words he would speak and Rickon knew his brother's instructions were clear. The morning farewells had went just as he expected them to back at Harrenhal, many Lords who were going south to war dragged their feet after the celebrations the night before and those who were either going home or to Riverrun were in the best of spirits and wished them off happily. The last matter for Aegon before he himself went further south was Ser Davos who had been kept captive since they had arrived at Harrenhal. When they brought him to the great hall he looked no worse for wear, but his speckled beard had grown very long in that time he spent as a prisoner though he did look like he had put on more weight than when he had arrived. The King had seemingly even forgotten about his existence until Rickon had reminded him of the debt he owed to the man who brought him from Skagos. He was a nice and good man to him for as long as they had known each other and even after the Manderly's captured him and put him in shackles their talks continued. He told him many things of how he lived in a place called Flea Bottom and of the Battle of King's Landing where he had failed his sons and led them to their deaths.

From what he had been told it did not seem as if he could have prevented their deaths, but the man argued that he should have kept them as far away from those waters as possible. It was a hopeless battle Rickon had learned soon after when they had discussed his King Stannis Baratheon. Ser Davos was utterly devoted to him and unshakable in his resolve, a trait it seemed he shared with his King.

Regardless of his resolve and kindness, Rickon felt the debt had been payed by making sure he received an audience and did not rot in the dark cells below Harrenhal until spring. Ser Davos had been quite surprised with the gesture when it was explained to him and even more so when the shackles were removed. When they brought them into the King's chambers and shared the breaking of their fasts together the man was confused. From how timedly he ate and from the small portions he took for himself he must have guessed it was poisoned. The terms of his release were quite easy and from the way the Imp had stirred in his chair he must have not agreed with the King's gesture or he was bored. He was to bring the terms of peace to Stannis Baratheon and convince him to lay down his arms and help foster peace between the two families as it once was. From what Ser Davos had told him of his King it seemed laughable at best that the man would accept any terms of peace put forward that did not make him the victor. From what Rickon could gather at their words it had seemed that the man must abdicate to his daughter and take the black and then and only then would his daughter Shireen Baratheon be allowed to take what he himself was denied by his older brother. Along with a solemn oath of the Seven and not of R'hllor which he had stressed multiple times, that he would not take any vengeance on the Baratheons.

Ser Davos to his credit was very honest and forthcoming to the council of men who had imprisoned him for days and just like Rickon knew him to, he never once showed fear when explaining his stance that Stannis was the one true King of Westeros. After giving the assembled men a brief history of the impressive victories Stannis Baratheon had accomplished in his life and of how he would never bend to any King again. There were a few admittedly funny comments from the Imp and his nuncle about Stannis before Aegon calmly explained that he would do best to council wisdom if he was as loyal as he claimed to be to Stannis. The Dragon King then went on to explain with the Bronze Lord of the Vale that they had made a point of showing him their entire army and all the Lords who have joined them. His nuncle had also pointedly explained that the North will not support Stannis much longer now that their common enemy was defeated in the Boltons and that their false Stark will not benefit them any longer now that the true Starks are in the south and supporting Aegon and not Stannis.

In the end it seemed that their talks solved nothing, though it the council had expected that they wanted to make the effort all the same. Ser Davos was then given a fresh horse and supplies along with a group of ten knights who were to escort him to the Neck. From there the journey to Winterfell to deliver the terms would be Davos' alone. It seemed the man the Imp called 'Ser Onion' had misunderstood the orders as Ser Davos asked if he was free from them or if he was expected to bring back his response and to captivity. King Aegon had explained to him then in the same voice Rickon had heard him use when he explained his favor to him on the bridge the day before. "You're free to do as you wish from here, Lord Davos of Rainwood. But if you wish to keep the lands given to you by your false King, I recommend you remember who the true King of Westeros is before it's too late. If not for yourself, then for your remaining sons and wife." 

From there they had all parted ways and with his nuncle, Arya, and Harrold they mounted their horses or palfrey in Arya's case and started on their way towards Riverrun with his sisters' mother in a wheelhouse close behind. They had rode for only a few minutes at best and were still in seeing distance of Harrenhal before they were stopped by Edric who had rode with all due haste to them to bring Nuncle a sealed letter from the King along with a gift for Rickon himself. It was a small blunted training sword with a black direwolf stamped onto the hilt. He knew that his uncle had been the one complaining that he should have had several training swords already and they both must have had it commissioned. Sadly for both Rickon and seemingly even Arya, their uncle was not in the mood to share his correspondence and did not even read the letter before stashing it in his saddlebag on the top pouch to the left and wishing Edric farewell. Unfortunately for Edric he had denied leaving before foolishly asking Arya for her favor before going off to war and to Harrold's great amusement Arya simply snickered and ushered her palfrey past him as if he was nothing more then a pebble under foot. Their nuncle had a few words of disapproval for her after they had gone far enough from Edric's earshot, but it was painfully obvious that the words were bouncing off her and being ignored which did give Rickon some sense relief.

It was much later in the day when they had all stopped to make camp that Rickon had found the time and courage to seek out his older sister. Even with the kind smiles she would show him and only him, it still was with much difficulty that it took to approach her, but in the end he managed his trepidation. He did not know what it was about her, she was by no means the scariest or most dangerous looking person he had ever met or even talked to. However his hairs never ceased to stand straight whenever around her and the cold feeling that ran down his spine did not help in the slightest. It was possible that the fear Shaggy had for her Nymeria had seeped into his mind too, but unlike Shaggy he did not feel the need to cower before her and she never meant to make him. "What are you thinking?" He asked her after watching her pick at her bowl of rabbit stew for exactly forty gut wrenching seconds of silence.

Her eyes faltered ever so slightly before a smile appeared from thin air on her lips in the moment she looked to him. "I was Just wondering how long it will take for us to reach Riverrun." That was a very poor lie as Rickon was confident that she could tell him the exact amount of steps on foot it would take to reach their destination.

If she did not want to share however then he would not pester her on her thoughts. "I don't know, I've never even been there." Without another word Rickon dipped the wooden spoon into the bowl and quickly put it up to his chapped lips and sucked the warm broth down. It took much longer to eat this way, but he remembered the Lady from the frog family telling him that civilized and courteous Lords use utensils and enjoy their food without slurping it down hastily and savoring the flavor. Harrold had laughed aloud at her words as he frequently did and it was not any less jarring than it had been the first time he had heard it. By no means was it unpleasant in tone, though it was much louder than anyone should laugh. It just was that it seemed to be half as likely to come out of his mouth as regular words even when unprovoked. Added with the apparent tenseness felt anytime Arya was near Harrold and for that matter Rickon seemed to get the same feeling if Harrold was near the Imp, Nuncle, and even to a lighter extent King Aegon. Arya's disdain however was so much more than theirs could ever be and she never tried to hide it. Harrold to his own merit did do his best to stay away from her. Not that his efforts amounted to much as they were travelling together and had to be in the same vicinity whether Arya liked it or not.

"I'm sure mother told you all about it when you were younger. It's a three sided castle on the red fork and can be made an island if need be to deter any foolish enough to attack it." How his sister explained it made it sound magical. As how could men make an island if need be if not magical?

"Is it made of wood?" Arya shook her head absentmindedly and then ate her first spoonful of rabbit soup and resumed her silence. Rickon did not know why he asked as it seemed like every castle in the south was made of stone. It was a good material to build a castle from. Strong and sturdy enough to weather and enemies alike. The problem as he saw it was that it always seemed so cold and dreary in stone castles; where in wood castles it seemed so much cozier and warmer. When Rickon brought that very sentiment up to Osha she reminded him that he had only ever stayed in one wooden castle and that was on Skagos and on Skagos anything with a roof seemed friendlier in comparison. He however could not agree with her. Not that he would ever had told her that aloud, but he loved Skagos despite what some would find and call flaws. It surprised him when in truth, but some nights he even missed Bramun and his pushy sisters who always insisted on kissing him and playing with his hair. Rickon knew though that it mattered not as he was a Stark and Starks don't belong in Skagos, but in Winterfell if Archmaester Marwyn was to believed. Yet he was not even there and was still in the Riverlands for the Gods only know how long, not that he hated the south as everyone was much friendlier then he expected. The only thing that made him wish for the endless days of hunting and playing on Skagos was his mother, who despite not sharing blood was willing and did risk life and limb for him in the end.

Arya was still tight lipped and just like when a hare would not remove itself from it's hole, you needed to shock and confuse it. "Are you going to marry Edric?" The ferocity in her eyes was something he would be hard pressed to stand up against if he was not sitting down. The look left her eyes quickly thankfully and a look of small amusement replaced it that Rickon's heart was thankful for.

"No, I can promise you that I won't marry that cunt." The word brought forth a small and foreign giggle from Rickon and upon hearing it his sister's mood seemed to rise as well. "You probably should forget I said that, and make sure you don't use that word yourself anytime your around Sansa. She would not appreciate that in the slightest I think." The more Rickon had heard of his oldest sister the more different he felt from her and yet his two sisters still seemed to be the farthest apart from each other. From what he had overheard from Harrold, Sansa was courteous, kind, graceful, always loving, and gentle. Arya on the other hand was prickly at best when talking to anyone not himself and downright mean and aggressive at her worst. Oddly still, Rickon felt much closer to Arya despite those observations and felt the same pain he felt after losing Osha diminishing around her. It was refreshing to have someone useful around to help him who would be able to keep his secrets. Just as he was advised he would find in her. She could probably shoot a bow and it might be nice to have someone to beat if he had to stay at Riverrun for long.

"I promise. Arya, did you see the letter that Nuncle got from Edric?" He had a feeling she did and he knew that she wanted to read it just by the way her eyes had widened as Edric whispered what it was. It was a disadvantage that he couldn't read and he hoped soon that he would be able to, but until then he would need someone like Arya for that.

His sister had taken the slightest gaze at their Nuncle who at the very moment was rummaging through his saddlebags for most assuredly the very letter they were now talking about. "I did." She placed her bowl of soup on the cold dirt and leaned over closer to him and embraced him tightly. "And I saw your hand snake into his saddlebags while you rode, now hand it over." She whispered into his ear and he had to admit this embrace was something he was wholly unused to but enjoyed, if not for the sign of affection then for the simple warmth of her versus the cold night air. A strange feeling however of safety mixed with fear crept up his spine as he felt his hand acting of it's own accord and reaching into his jerkin for the still sealed letter with a dragon of red wax. Quickly taking it from his hand and stashing it in the bodice of her black woolen dress, his sister then kissed him on the cheek and said before pulling away. "Thank you." Looking around the area no one had even moved an inch or taken notice of the intrigue masked as affection between the two. Which was masterfully demonstrated by the very same sister who he had frequently heard being gossiped about, as a foul and uncouth girl with little to no wits. Rickon did not know what uncouth had meant, but she was if anything bursting with wit and she had demonstrated that many times within the fours days he had known her which was more then he could say for his goodbrother.

Losing his patience with fiddling around with his spoon, Rickon put the bowl to his lips and drank down the salty and heavy broth until it was all gone. From a few feet away he could hear Harrold laughing and taking great amusement from the act Rickon had done with his good friend Mychel Redfort who also was on his way to Riverrun to meet his own wife. "I can't read."

Arya's demeanor had taken a noticeable drop after hearing their goodbrother again, but when her eyes turned back to Rickon it was lost and she nodded her head and appeased him. "Later, I promise." It was one he planned to hold her to and for now she had his trust until she broke it. He truly hoped she did not and felt reasonably sure she would not. It would be up to her to return the letter to their nuncle and without her handling it, Rickon felt confident in himself taking the blame and even more so that Nuncle would not be angry with him or even worried about any of the secrets of the letter getting out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter for the seeds of Arya and Rickon's relationship.
> 
> Next chapter will be Tyrion finally speaking with Jaime and the chapter after that will be Catelyn's funeral at Riverrun.


	53. A Brother's Choice

Tyrion:

 

 _One hundred and three, one hundred and four._ He counted along with each step up the spiraling staircase of the Tower of Ghosts. It had become nearly common practice at point. And though this had to be the third or fourth time he had to make the long climb, it was not any easier or pleasant. Added to the rather ominous name and deathly steepness of the steps was the sound of the Swannguard following diligently behind him and watching his every move like a mother lioness would watch it's cub.  _One hundred and five, one hundred and six._ With the departure of the army Harrenhal had gotten much quieter and Tyrion wondered if this was the sound the Whents heard everyday of their lives. Just silence and the imagined noises of the castle's past inhabitants crying out in their misfortune to own this giant pile of melted rubble.

The noises of the week before were quite the contrast as then it was the sound of roughly a quarter of a million soldiers complaining of hangovers or of commanding officers that filled these halls. Now it was only himself, roughly a thousand men of the claw, forty men of the Swannguard, some very important non combatants, and the current occupier of the Iron Throne's real father. "Have you finally come to sentence me or am I just destined to rot away in prisons for the rest of my life?" Called out Jaime from nearly twenty more steps above and through his padlocked iron door. His voice sounded in a much more livelier tone then he had been in the last time he had visited, it almost could be confused for the voice of a freeman without a care in this world.

After stopping on the landing before the door Tyrion waited as the keyholder stepped forward and unlocked the door. "Would you like us to stay outside, M'lord?"

Tyrion ignored him for the moment and looked far into the room at his older brother. He looked in frank words like a piss poor dockworker, except he imagined a dockworker would smell better, or at least their lodgings would. Jaime did not have the look of a son of house Lannister when they first dragged him into Harrenhal with his dirty beard with tinges of greying hair and the smell of urine. But now it looked so much worse as even his shaven head was starting to grow back out and even that once glorious head of gold was showing the signs of the wars it had seen. "No, lock the door behind me and take a stroll. No telling how long I will be with my brother."

They did not hesitate to obey his orders and after stepping into the room he heard the door slam shut and lock behind him. Jaime's eyes traveled up and down Tyrion many times and the younger Lannister felt as if he was something meant to be studied and pitied under his brother's eyes. "You look good, Tyrion. Is that silk or satin you're wearing?"

He was sure that he had asked him the same question the last time and even the time before that and the answer was still the same. "Silk, but it's not half as fair on me as it would be on you and I'm half your size." And just as before Jaime smiled ever so slightly and in the same reassuring manner he always would around his little brother. Mayhaps it was the image of trying to squeeze into his clothes, but Tyrion felt it was so much more than that. "I saw Myrcella not too long ago," To Tyrion's disappointment Jaime showed little care even at the mention of her name and his eyes did not bat once. "She looks more and more like her mother everyday. Thankfully she's inherited nothing of her character."

"And not fucking Kettleblacks and court jesters? Well good for her. Seems your idea of sending her to the dornish for safety has backfired spectacularly, little brother." The words Tyrion had said to Jaime come back strong and it felt like they were meant to hurt him. They did not however.

The stone chair looked to be a suitable place to rest for the time being. Tyrion wasted no time in pulling aside to face Jaime who continued to sit on the hard floor like a child at play would with his legs crossed over each other. "Myrcella is safe and will stay safe with me. I swear that to you, she shared no part in yours and our cunt of a sister's sins. Aegon does not hurt innocents and has no signs of the madness his grandfather possessed.

Jaime chuckled ever so slightly and it hung on his lips until he opened them to speak. "And tell me how long her safety will preserve when King's Landing resists him and his men?" It was a question Tyrion had wondered many times and one he had brought up to Archmaester Marwyn who in turn had supposedly brought those concerns to Aegon.

"I've thought how strange it is every time I come to visit, you've never once asked after any of them. Not about their fates, their futures, or even anything of Cersei." Looking up from his feet at his older brother, Tyrion noticed how Jaime had averted his gaze either from the shame or of the pain in the truth of Tyrion's words. "Cersei succeeded in her trial and has been exonerated of her accusations."

"Her lies swayed them over in the end did they? Cersei always has had a way with her tongue didn't she?" Jaime asked the question as if he was angry that she did worm her way out of justice once more.

Could it have been possible that they had a falling out, Tyrion wondered and it would have been a dream come true. Her grasp of Jaime was one he had always hoped would break and if it had then it might not have been too late for Jaime yet. "No, she demanded a trial by combat and was championed by your brother in white. A man named Ser Robert Strong, irony at it's best is it not?"

The silence that then fell over the brother's was not broken until Jaime finally spoke. "Back when were in King's Landing, before you killed father you were the one in chains and I was the one in the position of power who freed you. Rather strange how fast things can change isn't it? You could repay my kindness and free me, it's not too late."

 _Oh it is too late, and truthfully I'm happy it is._ Tyrion pitied how it all could end so wrong between them. The little cub who was ostracized by his family and hated for things out of his control always had his older brother to look out for him and what did the cub ever do to repay him? "You know I can't."

Even in rejection Jaime did not seem angry or even spiteful, he simply accepted his words. "Tell me, do you truly believe in this mummer of a dragon?"

It was a question that was far too late to be asked, but one he would answer all the same. "I do, as strange as it is. From brother to brother, even if I didn't believe it as truth he is the best bet to gamble on." The snicker of amusement from Jaime may may have made it clear that it was a wasted breath trying to explain to him, but he needed to try. He did not know whether if it was guilt in his heart or a need to make Jaime understand the logic behind his decision, but he knew above else that he needed to be heard. "If you're worried he'll sack King's Landing-"

That got the biggest rise out of Jaime that Tyrion had heard in ages it felt like. "I don't give two shits about that cesspool of a capital. He should burn it down and start again and mayhaps he'll even be able to control the filth that has been allowed to grow there."

Tyrion did not believe Jaime meant that, for all of his confidence and swagger he did not mean that as much as he wished he did. "Then is it Cersei or Tommen you are worried about?"

"She's made her own choices and she can burn for them on her own, I'm done protecting her." That had hurt Jaime much more than any words should have. It however did not escape Tyrion's notice of how Tommen's name was excluded, but he would not twist his arm to face his fatherly responsibility. "You know everyday I've waited for the headsman to come and collect me. I've wondered every night if it will be my last, and all I ever get is silence from my guards and you avoid the subject. So tell me is that why you've come to see me today? Come to collect on that debt you promised because of your whore?" He knew Jaime was trying to provoke and anger him, but it would not work this time.

"Her name, was Tysha." Tyrion even in saying her name felt like he was sullying it, as he did not deserve to say her name. "Is that what you want? Do you want to die?"

"It doesn't matter what I want! I'm the one in chains and you are the one with the power of life and death over me." Jaime rattled at the chains on his arms and forced Tyrion to look him in the eye.

Tyrion did not have the heart to deny him that much and he did not have the love to lie to him any longer. "I will never forgive you for Tysha. Until my last day in this world I will curse you for what you allowed happen to her. I won't lie as the chances of you living after King's Landing falls are not good, in fact I'd call them slim to none. He demands vengeance for his mother and sister. Sadly for you the Mountain and Armory Lurch are dead and he sees only you left."

"Thats good and he should do just that. Kill me for the crimes of our father's bannermen." Jaime did not speak as if it was good or if it was fair, but when was anything? "I should have went to them and I didn't and their dead because of it." It was not right in the least. What was he supposed to do, fight both men to his death? It seemed as if that was what both Jaime and Aegon felt was right and maybe it was what he had sworn to do, but it did not sit any better in Tyrion's heart.

The tempers then died down and silence once again overtook the room and the two brothers. It had been a long silence before Tyrion realized that Jaime would not be the one to speak up and so he would have to try again. "Myrcella has been asking about you." Jaime again showed little reaction and not even the once so proud and confident smile he wore to defend himself appeared. "Do you even care?"

His older brother seemed to throw the idea around several times in his head before smacking his lips as if he had tasted something foul. With a shrug of his shoulders he looked at Tyrion and admitted. "I don't know anymore. She was raised to be Robert's daughter and I don't see why that should change." It had been another long pause before Jaime muttered the words Tyrion had held out for. "I won't stop you if you bring her to me. I won't promise you anything other then that, little brother."

Tyrion wondered if he would finally tell her the truth or if he planned to hold out just a little longer. It might have been easier on her to let her know now, rather than waiting for Aegon to make it publicly a fact by decree, but he knew that it could not be him and it had to be Jaime. "Tommen will come to no harm if things go our way. I've made sure that after the war is over Tommen will be spared and sent to the Night's Watch." He hoped that when the time came Jaime would ask for the same fate and finally take his responsibility for this mess.

Jaime snickered and looked bemusedly at Tyrion as if he had two heads on his shoulders. "I doubt it. I'm sure Eddard Stark planned on the sack of King's Landing to be bloodless, but things just get out of control and do not always go according to plan." The look died and it seemed Tyrion had struck a nerve as his brother then said. "But I'll hold you to your word regardless."

"But regardless of circumstances Cersei will die for her crimes." Tyrion waited for Jaime to either argue or throw in some quip, but to his great surprise no emotion came to Jaime's tired face. It had caught him quite off guard as something either anger or happiness would have made sense, but nothing simply confused Tyrion.

"After the war are you to be made the new Lord of Casterly Rock?" Asked Jaime and when Tyrion nodded his head he did the same. "You always should have been. It never was fair or wise how father ignored you. Even if I would have been released of my vows after Robert took the throne you still would have been ruling in everything but name. You were the only suitable heir to father as much as you both hated to admit it, you were his true son." Those words would have meant the world to Tyrion years ago, but now they were nothing but an unpleasant fact. "So are you just going to keep me rotting here until the end of the war?"

"No," It was the reason for his visit today and the moment he had been trying to put off. "Aegon will be calling for you before they assault King's Landing." Tyrion swallowed down the nerves twisting up his gut and looked his brother dead in the eyes. "When the time comes Jaime you must do the right thing for Tommen."

"And what is the right thing for Tommen?"

"You will be released before the city gates and we will allow you back into the city. If you have any feelings for Tommen you must convince them to open it's gates and let us into the city."

Jaime did not hide his feelings on that idea and his laughter made Tyrion feel like even more of a fool then he had thought he would. "Even if I had that much power I wouldn't do that. Grand Maester Pycelle once convinced the Mad King to do that very thing for father and look what happened. It was a funny jape and rather poetic I think if your King came up with that."

It was just as Tyrion felt it would turn out in the end and he was sad for it. This was his last gamble at repaying his brother and if he wouldn't accept his help then he would not offer it again. "Guards." At the sound of his voice the door's lock clicked open and five of the men poured into the room with weapons drawn.  "I told him this would be your very response and for what it is worth I truly I'm sorry, for everything Jaime."

He did not seem angry or even vengeful as he held his hands out for the guards and they pulled him to his feet. "Nothing to be sorry for, Tyrion."

But Tyrion knew he would be in the end and he hoped that Jaime knew that as well. "However, you will do this. When the time comes we will send you through the gates. And once more, the fate of the city will be in your hands it seems. I know it was never something you wanted and for that I am sorry that you have placed yourself in this position." Looking from his brother and at the Swannguard, he ordered. "Take him to the maester's chambers and make sure he is cleaned and fed. After that bring him to the courtyard and get him ready for travel." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly thought this chapter was gonna be longer in my head.
> 
> Just as well I think because my Jaime, Aegon, and Jon chapters are gonna be really long so look forward to that if you will.


	54. The Meeting of Dragon and Lion

Aegon:

 

The city smelled of shit, even from this distance it was an overpowering scent of the very corruption that had been allowed to fester for far too long. The city from this distance looked friendly enough and the walls could almost be taken for the walls of a kind and clean city. Almost like Oldtown was, but Oldtown was a friendlier and mostly clean city unless you knew where to go to find it's underbelly. But in King’s Landing the seedier side was impossible not to find oneself in according to Marwyn.

“I’ve finally done it.” Aegon said in a quiet voice as he heard the shallow footsteps behind him that were made to signal his arrival. “I imagine this day has been long coming for you as well.” It almost brought a chuckle to his lips. “Longer than me I’m sure.”

“Hopefully not more than you. Can't have another King who likes to shirk his duties can we? It would make these painfully long years all for naught and I do so hate to waste time.” He piped out before tittering at some humor that Aegon could not find.

The thousand pavilions all displayed their banners proud and high as if taunting the city that they meant to rape and pillage and would do so if fate once more turned face. "It's glorious is it not? I've assembled the strength of the entire Vale and Claw along with the remnants of the Riverlands for this one purpose." That was the word. Aegon had read that very question which had been asked by many conquerors long before him, but he was not sure. The scent of lilac was a definite plus to his this conversation and it almost succeeded in masking the shit and almost convinced him of taking the same habit. "You weren't discovered were you?"

With another high pitched snicker he reassured Aegon. "I was not, your Grace." Walking beside him and looking over the hill at the army and gaining the same perspective Aegon himself had, the plump Eunuch made a distasteful noise. "It looks like a group of bloodthirsty men content on battle and blood to my eyes. I may be mistaken, but in my mind 'glorious' is not the correct word."

His scent was so much more potent from this distance, overpowering even which had made it nearly hard to think. "Jaime Lannister is to arrive on tomorrow's morn." It seemed a little pointless to say as he was sure that Varys had learned that before even himself, but the illusion must be kept or what would they ever talk of? The once former Master of Whisperers of his enemy simply nodded his head and the rolls of his neck trembled showing his understanding along with a sly smile. "I thank you for preparing her. I couldn't act so openly, but I was assured it would be something she was suited for." Varys knew what he spoke of and while he would never voice his complaints, he made them known all the same with his silence. "I'm sure you've kept tabs on the boy too."

The plump Eunuch nodded and produced a small scroll from the long sleeve of his roughspun and colorless robe. "He seems like an excellent and clever lad. And she has the tools so it won't be long now." Plucking the small paper from his soft hand, Aegon pulled at the string keeping it tied and read the two words that chilled him to his very core. Without pause he held the paper over the brazier and watched as the flames licked at it's edges. "Frightened? You shouldn't be."

Yet he was and it made him increasingly wary of what he was supposed to hope would come to pass. _Trust him and his message, he's never led me astray yet._ "Keep an eye open, and do be careful if you're information is correct." Varys smiled deeply and nodded his head before tossing the hood of his robe back up to conceal himself for the long journey back out of the camps and into King's Landing. The Spider backed away from Aegon and moved towards the front entrance. "And-"

The Eunuch silenced his warning quickly in a distant, but heavier voice that Aegon did not recognize. "It will stay between us as always, your Grace." The fluttering of the flaps to his pavilion were just loud enough that Aegon knew he was finally alone with only his thoughts and the sight of the distant city, whose walls were alight with torches and waiting for the inevitable.

The sacking of Rosby in the last moon had gone well it seemed or as well as it could go when sacking a worthless castle with nothing of value in either gold, livestock, grain, or hostages. Duskendale had gone much better as the garrison surrendered after Lord Royce sent a maester to the gates retelling the events of the 'Defiance of Duskendale', but they did not surrender before a written version carried by a raven was ignored. Stokeworth had been spared and dipped its banner soon after Tyrion had parleyed with the husband of the soft-headed Lady Lollys Stokeworth. Aegon would mean to ask him exactly what had happened there after they found time and he arrived with his Oathbreaker of a brother. The siege preparations of King's Landing were finished and the only thing left to do was to attack the city according to Ser Brune as Aurane was already in place and was blocking the harbor though he was a day early. Siege towers were the first option raised due to the height of the walls around the Dragon Gate, but due to the snow the idea had been scrapped in favor of ladders. Trebuchets and Catapults were already in position and they had more then enough ammunition to keep barraging the city for three days if need be.

As a cold breeze blew threw the open flaps of his pavilion that gave vision to the whole of his army's camp below and of King's Landing it only emphasized the sad truth that winter was finally here. It had always been an unfortunate season of cold, death, disease, and the cold that he so hated. The snow had covered the ground in a thin layer that no doubt irritated and made miserable the soldiers who did not care enough or have the means to shovel it away. Thankfully, his campsite had been cleared before he had even arrived on the back of his fiery sand steed who surprisingly did not take nearly as poor to the weather as it's name would have suggested.

The day before the last the Blackfish had returned with the Wild Wolf as many had mockingly began to call Rickon for his perceived apathy, which was a foolish mistake on their parts and short sighted. Some seemed to even believe that he was a disturbed boy simply because he did not act as other children his age would, which did serve to give Aegon some annoyance. But as long as none said it in anything other then whispers, what could he do? Without fail the boy had found his way back to his side and wordlessly watched listened to Aegon's every word like a child would to emulate a father which did not please him one bit. His hair had been chopped off to a much more manageable length, no doubt by Sansa, Aegon had presumed. Though he did not say it in few or any words, Rickon did not need to as to let Aegon know that his request was being attempted which brought the first smile in a long time to his face.

It would be long day tomorrow and he knew that there was no use in staying up later this night, but the warmth of the source of his great pain was burning hot and he knew that he would not be able to sleep long this night. "Is she really missing?" He asked the wind as a madman would for the answers to life's greatest dilemma.

Turning to the crooked and spiked candle of black obsidian, he noted how his blood pooled in it and how it boiled before giving way to the impossible flames that flickered on its spire. "She has flown far away on her Drogon towards the Dothraki Sea, for what purpose even I do not know." The voice was distinctly foreign and it had a sharp, but sweet sound to it and she spoke the common tongue flawlessly. It never took long for the pain to set in, yet even this time it was worse than it had ever been before and he knew that the time was nearing where it must be abandoned. She had appeared before the opening of his tent as a master assassin would, being quiet, quick, and most of all impossibly graceful as if she possessed no need to walk and simply floated. The red of her mask looked to be dripping the very same shade of blood that he had seen pooled in the candle's and yet the beauty of her eyes were so entrancing that he felt men good and evil would have fought countless wars for her once. "I know what you intend to do, Aegon Targaryen."

His mind had felt light and it was beginning to become difficult to think. "And do you finally have words for me?" The pain shot through his head and his vision had briefly turned red before regaining itself and then he felt the familiar warmth spread behind his nose. The woman shook her head and crossed the tent seemingly instantaneous as Aegon could not remember her walking to him. "Well? I've followed his instructions to the letter and the entire time you've warned me against it, yet never given me any instructions of your own. So have you changed your mind?"

Before answering him her pale hand slowly rose to his face and touched his upper lip and then her finger wiped at his clammy skin. The dark red blood clinging to her finger made the contrast of night and day before turning to smoke and dispersing before his eyes like ice put over a great fire. "No, my words and wisdom are wasted on and not for you." She slipped around him and looked out towards the same city Aegon himself had been watching for so long and with little interest she reached out towards it. "Yet I will warn you to not trust your heart. It has led many before you astray and you will not be the exception, but the lesson if you do not heed my words. Prepare for her."

Aegon opened his mouth to answer, but on her cue the candle had extinguished and the colors of the room returned to their former bleakness. He stared at the candle without motion for a while longer in the hopes of something more from her, and when he was let down again he wiped the trail of blood from his nose and realized that it was just as well. The pool was wholly empty and Aegon knew that it would need to be filled again and it would soon need to learn the taste of another. "High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts." It was a sad tune most say and he was certainly taught that was the way in which to present it, but he had more then enough of the dark and gloomy that night.

The night had been a restless one and the weather had only turned colder as it went on and it topped off an hour before the first bell signaling the next shifts. It was not long after that Marwyn walked into the tent with a tray of boiled oats and plump grapes and roused him from his relaxation. The oats were good and the grapes not so much, not that it mattered as Aegon had lost the contents of his stomach not long after while looking at the walls of King's Landing and as a result Marwyn then forced him to swallow basil to quench the symptoms. The cause he figured was the thousands of men on the walls that could very well be dead before that noon and it disgusted himself to admit it was also in part to fear.  The showing of strength by the Tyrells was strong and he doubted not that it was an attempt to intimidate the attackers with their superior numbers and was cooked up by the Lord Tarly. If it had only been the Dull Flower leading the soldiers he held no doubt that the man would have sullied forth and fallen right into his traps, but Tarly was far too shrewd and knew when to recognize a folly.

Dressed in a red woolen tunic that hung to his knees he tucked it into his fur lined breeches and over that he laced up his hardened doublet dyed black as pitch. Stealing a look from the reflecting glass set up in the pavilion he rubbed at his eyes and adopted the same confident and borderlining arrogant smirk that he knew he would use today and the one they needed. Edric was in the highest of spirits that morn and had already dressed himself in his yellowed mail and black leathers with a rich cloak depicting the stag of house Baratheon circled with blue flowers and that was clasped to his shoulders with a silver stag and fox. "You look like a proper warrior, Ed." Aegon gave him the compliment that he knew the boy so craved and he would be lying if the joy in Ed's eyes did not make it worth it everytime he did so.

"Thank you, Aegon. The cloak was my idea, the stag for my house and the flowers for my mother's." His mother was named Delena Florent if Aegon's memory served and though he had never had met the woman before, it was obvious she had left nothing of herself in her son besides the ears and it was growing more apparent every day. Some days he had the need to look at the boy's ears just to remember that this was not Renly and by extension Robert come again. Edric had struggled for a time with the pauldrons of Aegon's gold and white scaled armor as he occasionally did, not that Aegon minded this day. "Have you ever been in love?"

The boy who in truth did not look anything like a boy any longer had said it so quietly that Aegon had debated responding before relenting to the question. "Familiar love, yes. But not romantic or primal love if you will." And Aegon was sure that was exactly what Edric had with the poor woman who unfortunately was in the wrong place at the wrong time like so many before her. It had given him a sense of amusement that the real game had already started before the wars were over, but what was he to expect? Marwyn had warned him of the Martells many times and from what he had gathered in his years this was something not remotely out of the question for them. Sadly for them, he had all the power and nothing was a secret to him for as long as his body withstood the effects of the candle and every plot and treasonous thought he would hear. "She's a clever girl, Ed, and you could find much worse in a wife. She may be slightly headstrong, but I rather think you will benefit from having someone like that."

Aegon felt the pauldrons snap into place and the tension emanating off his squire was strong which amused him in the slightest. "Do I have to marry her?" His question had bounced through Aegon's head many times as well as anything time he thought of her olive skin, sultry eyes, or her bosom. However Edric was talking about the Ice Hearted daughter of Eddard Stark as Marwyn and many of her unsuccessful suitors had taken to calling her and not the Sun's Daughter.

"Do you hate me?" It was question he had to ask the seed of Robert Baratheon. Many people thought that it was the reason Aegon had made the son of his father's enemy his squire, a sort of vengeance and victory. Maybe it was at once, he did not truly remember what it was that had brought him to make the boy his squire any longer.

Using the looking glass, he saw Edric furiously shake his head while strapping on the fetching vambraces of his armor. "Not at all. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have complained. I'll marry her if you need me to." He was quite pathetic looking when frightened that he would lose someone or favor, Aegon realized. Ed was also quite ugly when crying, which he had done for nearly a fortnight after failing to find his night companion and then when thinking she had abandoned him. In comparison Aegon thought he looked quite smug and confident at the moment, his own lips were a strong and straight line of general apathy through and through and he knew that would not do today. Stretching his jaw and grinding his back teeth together, Aegon curved his mouth up in a subtle but proud smirk that threatened that the wearer knew something that the one who saw it did not and he knew that would do.

It took longer then he would have liked to admit for him to realize that was meant as Ed's response to question. "I didn't tell you that you had to marry her. I asked you if hate me, Ed." Looking over Ed's shoulder through the looking glass he saw Balon stride into the tent in black plated armor with light brown furs peeking over the shoulders and looking the very spitting image of the Warrior with a strong and wide chest matched with an even stronger jawline.

The dark haired boy had quickly sputtered out his refusal and Aegon wondered if he would have felt the same if he was in Edric's position. "It's just hard, I still miss her and Arya just hates me so-"

"Lady Stark." Balon corrected him from the other side of the tent where he sipped from a crystal goblet of wine. "It might have something to do with the fact that you're use her name so casually." That might have been part of her disclination to him, but it was not sole cause Aegon and Balon both knew.

The girl held Ed's number and would forever it seemed, but it may have been for the best. "No man can force another man to marry, Ed. If you wish to not pursue her then that is your choice. But I must also inform you that you will have to marry a girl of a good and honorable house, be they from the south, north, east, or west." It had taken much strength of tongue not to add that he had also meant no bastards, but it would be pointless to say it for anyone but himself. "Are they here yet, Brother?" The Commander of his Kingsguard nodded his head and then walked over to them and helped Edric with the last of the armor. "Go get my helm and a thin cloak." Without pause Ed ran to the desired items stacked neatly in a footlocker and returned back with them in a great haste. A golden and silver inlaid close helm with white furled wings and a thin cloak of black with a silver dragon in it's center.

Turning from the looking glass and towards the opening of his tent he felt the cold breeze of winter blew through him, but it mattered not. "You're nervous. Don't be." Balon spoke just loud enough for only him to hear and it raised the question that he could not face. The sky was cloudy that day and the sun was rising just over the city which was unfortunate if the attack was to occur soon. The amount of men lining the trail down from the hill had been breath taking, all of them were solemn faced and doing their very best to hide the trepidation they all must have held inside. "Do you see their faces? They are depending on you to lead them through this, they will follow you into the hottest of the seven hells if you'd just command it." And if fate turned it's face he would be doing just that, but the hell he knew they must face was not of that kind.

"In battle it only takes one mistake and it will be all for naught. I can suffer no mistakes, I can not be anything less then what is expected of me." _Perfection._ "All I need to do is miss once, just one mistake and we all go down in history as glorious failures, Brother." It was thankful that the snows had given them a brief respite this day as the sun would already be in their eyes and they would not need the snow to follow it's lead. After reaching the bottom of the hill, a short boy with a round belly ran to them and dropped to his knees in the snow and held up a box of dark wood before them. Taking his cue, Ed stepped forward, lifted the lid and then deftly placed the crown of valyrian steel onto Aegon's head. It had been a strangely adept talent that Ed had picked up, rarely was it necessary for Aegon to adjust its sitting as the boy just had a way of it.

The trio stepped past the boy and it was only apparent then that they had attracted a long line of followers, be they common soldiers, wishful courtiers, or lords who hoped to gain favors. "You sell yourself far too short. I've seen you dispatch several men outnumbering you before when you were younger." Aegon remembered many occasions of that too, and it was thanks to Garlan that he ever learned not to fight with only eyes. The very same Garlan who promised that they would be brothers and would bring change to Westeros, but where was he now?

"That was a long time ago, and we were only using training blades then. I knew that regardless of any failure I would live to see the next day. Real battle is so much different." Though not in the way he had ever expected. Most have said they vomit, defecate, or soil themselves before battle or even after their first kill, but he did neither. He did not remember the first man very well, besides for his greying hair and of the look his eyes took on when he realized that he was dying. It was a strange thing to see the life seeping from a dying man and the feelings it gave. A rather sweet tingle that rose up his spine and a taste for seeing the spectacle again was present, but that was not right.

The few more minutes of the walk to the Oathbreaker had been shared in silence apart from the greetings of others which he had returned infrequently. It was when coming through the open sided tent that Aegon saw the golden haired cunt again and it did give him some satisfaction to see his prideful smirk was gone. "Your Grace." Exclaimed Marwyn before gently bowing with his back and the sentiment was then shared by Tyrion who held up a gold goblet in his direction which was no doubt filled with wine.

Giving a sideways glance at Tyrion before looking at the Oathbreaker, he was happy to see that his Hand had finally cleaned the scruffy beard on his face. Standing just behind his high backed chair was his truly timid and sometimes amusing squire Podrick. "Hello there, Pod. I see you haven't managed to get him to kick his taste of wine." The boy's eyes tilted down towards his feet while he shook his head and his pale cheeks rose in color when all eyes in the tent travelled to him. Edric without being asked to carried a leather backed and armed chair right behind Aegon, but he however did not feel like sitting down and looking at the favored son of Tywin Lannister on equal grounds. "Ser Jaime Lannister, you look like you've been through hell."

The Oathbreaker regained the arrogance he was so used to seeing as he looked up at him and retorted. "Do I? Well I certainly do feel that way." The sound of his voice had been more unbearable than he had estimated it would be and on second thought he was happy that Ed had brought a chair.

It had been after settling onto the cold chair that he had noticed Ser Brune was in the far corner of the tent looking over a hastily put together banquet table. His grotesque deformity had been on full display and it was a small pity most of that food would go uneaten for as long as he stood near it and ruined appetites. "I hope the roads did not trouble you." He would not say that to the Oathbreaker and he forced Tyrion to look him in the eyes instead and answer it.

"We were held up for nearly a day after passing through Castle Stokeworth and broke two spokes on the wheelhouse." Tyrion said so very plainly and took a shallow sip of wine without breaking eye contact. His stare could be considered ugly and even frightening, Aegon admitted, but it was not for their appearance that he paled under them but for the intelligence they hid as he was unpredictable at the best of times when it came to deciphering his mind. "I saw the banners of house Rykker amongst ours in the camps, I would very much like to hear how that feat was accomplished."

Before Aegon could answer, the Oathbreaker interjected with a smart mouthed retort that forced Aegon to grip the handles of his seat for strength. "I would not call subduing them much of a feat. More like a natural progression of the King for this year. Tell me, what are you? The tenth King in Westeros in the last two years?" Ser Brune had moved from the table and his thick rock-like fingers balled into a fist and Aegon briefly feasted on the thought of watching a mouthful of teeth fly from the Oathbreaker's smug mouth. However this was not the time for petty acts of vengeance and so he stopped the man with a quick glance. "Lets see, there was Robert, Joffrey, Robb Stark, Renly, Stannis, Balon Greyjoy. At the moment there is my nephew Tommen, Euron Greyjoy, and yourself. So nine, nine monarchs who have claimed Kingship through some line or another."

"Your son, not nephew." Aegon looked to the Oathbreaker and deep into his bright green eyes. Even in age the lion had not lost any of his fire and though Aegon knew he could defeat him easily in arms as he was now, a feeling of fear pooled in his heart for what the man once was. "And do you not take any blame for it? This would not have happened if you had remembered your oath to my mother, sister, and I." The man looked ready to shoot back another humorous remark, but he had cut him off as he was not finished. "You are the one who threw this Kingdom into the situation it's in now. All because you couldn't keep your oaths." It felt good, really good and the more Jaime's eyes dimmed the better it kept getting. "And not only to my family either, you broke your oaths to Robert and cuckolded the man for Gods' sake. You just can't help yourself, can you?"

The man took on a rather confused look and said back. "Are you faulting me for breaking my oath to be celibate? Or are you faulting me for sleeping with my sister? Because even if it was true, which it is not. I thought as a Targaryen, which you claim to be, would be understanding of my plight."

There was nothing he could do but smirk and keep playing this game of words with the man he so hated. "I think blight is the correct word. But regardless of that, no, I do not pity the situation you have made with your own choices. I simply pity those that now have to clean up the mess you've made because you couldn't resist fucking your twin." His language had been harsher than it might have needed to be and Ed held the greatest look of surprise at the choice of words while Pod had been retreating more and more from view with each word, while Ser Brune simply smirked and Tyrion kept retreating back into his cup.

Quick as ever the Oathbreaker would not relent and kept on the attack. "Blight is it? You curse your own house, Aegon. I may be shoddy on history unlike my brother here, but if I remember right it seems like every other generation in your family married siblings to siblings."

"One wrong makes another one right is it? No, it's a disgusting habit that results only in madmen and tyrants as so perfectly demonstrated by your cunt of a son Joffrey."

Jaime Lannister rubbed at the heavy stubble on his chin and formulated his thoughts which brought no small amount of satisfaction to Aegon. "It's so easy to point fingers at others is it not? Speaking about matters you know not about does seem to be something you are quite adept at, you may just make yourself a King yet." That was a poor retort, but Aegon did remember that he was the simple brother of the Lannisters. "How can you claim that the love others share is wrong? Your father understood that love was complicated when he left your mother for Lyanna Stark." It felt like the Wall had fallen onto his shoulders at that moment and he felt his smile dropping and drooping like an icicle might in the face of spring. "I heard the other Stark girl is in your camps, and she's unmarried to boot. Thinking about following in your father's footsteps are we? Neither of you are married so I wouldn't see a problem-"

He did not know what had happened, but the next thing he knew he had cleared the distance between them and flipped the chair the bastard had been sitting on and his hands were wrapped around the man's throat. "Shut up! Shut up!" Aegon roared as he watched the color in the man's face begin to change. _How dare you-you bastard._ The large bear like hands of Marwyn dropped onto both of his shoulders and rubbed at them gently trying to loosen the grip they assisted, but he was not ready for that yet. "Never fucking compare him to me again," He knew that he had to put some type of fear into Jaime to regain control of the situation and so he did in a whisper only they shared. "or I will kill your son myself." He did not mean it, or he hoped he did not. Releasing his grip from the man's throat he gripped the rough fabric of his tunic and pulled him back to his feet.

Combing the loose strands of his hair back over his ears, Aegon sat back down in the chair with a thud and Ed placed a goblet of water in his hand. Marwyn lifted the chair off the ground and returned it to its former location and Jaime himself returned to it after. It was the Oathbreaker who broke the silence of the room first. "I'm sorry, that wasn't worthy of you or I." It was not, but it had however been a fire that Jaime himself had started and Aegon would not dilute himself to anything but that truth. "So why have you brought me here? Just to battle words with you or was there some other meaning in this."

He himself did not know why they had sat down together and talked, but he was still desperately searching for it. "Allow me to show you." Taking a deep drink from the cold water and handing it back to Edric, Aegon turned through the exit and then the assembled crowd of men came into view and dispersed when they saw him. Balon stood at the entrance of the tent and with a knowing look from Aegon he slowly moved towards the city of King's Landing through the camps and led the group forward. Upon arriving at a sparse hill nearly sixty yards from the cavalry spikes which had been set up to deter any efforts to sally from the gates, Aegon stopped and looked behind to see the group of men that were within the tent falling a short distance behind. Along with a group of no less than twenty Swannguards behind Jaime to not only stop him from fleeing, but from the Riverlanders and even some Valemen in his army. As Jaime stopped beside him, Aegon pointed to the city of King's Landing. "How many people do you think live in that city?"

The man most called Kingslayer as an insult, shrugged and hesitated before answering. "Half a million, less after this winter I'd say." It was a good guess, though Aegon doubted it was just a guess.

"That sounds about right, which is why we must not let this battle come to pas." He knew it would be perceived as a threat and even an insult to those that heard, but he was past caring. "By tomorrow morn if you do not convince the city to surrender ... we will both burn, but only you will be the one to perish, Kingslayer." The third most hated man he had ever thought of as a child opened his mouth to respond, however now was not the time for petty words and explanations, but for actions and resolutions. "You know of what I speak." The thought of it sickened him and he knew that however awful the smell of the city was now, the scent of half a million people being burned alive would never be surpassed.

Pulling back from the Oathbreaker, he looked back out over the city and was surprised hear the bells from the Sept of Baelor were ringing throughout the city. "It could almost pass for a bad jape that I'm being asked to save this city. A cruel one at that, but I will do the right thing." Aegon would not question him any longer as he had shown his heart on his sleeve, but he would sin if he did not wonder for who he had meant he would do the right thing for.

"I'm happy, but know something now. I will never forgive you, should the city surrender, you will die here or at the Wall. Should you attempt to defend the city, you will fail and you will die here or at the Wall." His Lords would be beside themselves, but fair was fair and justice was the justice he would uphold. Too long had slothfulness, greed, and lust dictated the Kingdoms and in his world nepotism would never find a home as it had with the past Kings. "For your son, please surrender the city." It would be the final act of compassion he would show this man's follies. "I do not wish for him to suffer the same fate as my sister once did." Before Jaime could misconstrue his words Aegon followed that sentiment further to explain himself. "And that is not a threat, if you wondered. Just that I cannot be everywhere and who knows what someone might do in an attempt to please me."

It had been a small and quiet send off for the pride of Tywin Lannister, only Tyrion had cared to give him any words before he was given a worthless horse and sent towards the Dragon's Gate. It was only later when Aegon had asked him that Tyrion admitted that Myrcella and her true father had finally talked at Harrenhal and they had said all there was to be said between them. After returning to the war tent they both sat at opposing sides and simply waited for the inevitable. But bursting into the tent was Edric who had looked like he had seen the greatest sight that man had ever saw. The gates had opened and this time a group of men and women in white shifts had left through the gates with a seven sided banner of white. The High Sparrow had come to parlay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, Sorry Tommyginger. I know you're a big Sansa fan and I promised a chapter of hers before this but it was just so boring I could not publish it in good conscious. I do however promise you will get a big Sansa chapter soon along with some Starky family goodness.
> 
> Also kinda funny observation I've made on my story as on AO3 it seems most people are pushing Sansaegon and on Fanfiction most are pushing Aryaegon.
> 
> Pretty happy with the end result of this chapter so let me know what you think.


	55. Sparrows of a Feather

Tyrion:

 

"What do you think they're speaking of?" Harrold asked Tyrion in a whisper. It was a foolish question even for him to ask, as both of them were next to each other and not inside of the tent. They spoke so lightly that even the sound of breathing was clear and evident which could be a good sign or a bad sign. This High Septon though had been much a much stronger willed man and was not one to be intimidated or bribed like the ones of the past and he had set out to make that apparent and known to all in Westeros. He knew that Cersei was mad, but to reinstate the Faith's power was a step he thought only Joffrey would have been fool enough to make. The High Sparrow had walked the distance from the Dragon's Gate in a simple tunic and without shoes in the snow without so much as flinching, it was something Baelor himself would have accomplished and that frightened Tyrion more than a thousand Poor Fellows could.

The Warrior's Sons had been led by a man called Ser Theodan Wells or Theo the True and he was the very image of what one would expect from the a holy warrior, the only spot Tyrion was surprised to find missing was a seven pointed star across the man's chest.  Along with them was a collective group of Septas and Septons that no doubt were just as fanatical as the High Sparrow as all of them wore no crystals and wore only the simplest of garbs and wool wraps around their feet. One in particular who had caught his attention was a stunning woman of beautiful blonde hair whose beauty could match a princess of any house. Tyrion would not have doubted she received a place in his inner circle due to her beauty and innocence if she had been under any High Septon.  _Could she be a test used to measure the virtue of followers or of himself?_ He wondered and when the woman's eyes finally noticed his stare he averted his own and answered Harrold. "God's alone know."

As a sign of good faith and his devotion to the Seven, Aegon had given them two carts of grain and corn to help the poor of the city make it through this siege. It had been a good starting point for their talks and the High Sparrow had happily accepted them and swore that the smallfolk would benefit greatly from it. However the self importance of this High Sparrow was too high and that was no good at all for their cause if he thought he was exempt of bowing before him. "It does not speak well of this Aegon Targaryen, that not only does he foster a known kinslayer, but also puts him in a position of great power." Tyrion surmised that was aimed at him by Ser True.

"Hello to you too, Ser. I worried for a time that one of your vows was that you could not speak, I'm happy to see one of you fancies conversation. I was starting to tire of this silence." The man did not crack a smile or stiffen up in anger, he was simply a statue of virtue and stoicism. The fair septa beside him did smile brightly at him and it would have been a sin to lie and say it did not stir something within Tyrion. "Are you a septa, my lady? If so may you be so kind as to give me your name."

"Do not fraternize with the initiate. She is not for you, and her virtue is one all should look up to." Ser Wells was not any kinder with his words now as he was before and it was painfully obvious he desired her or that she was something of a trophy point for them. Stepping in front of her and blocking her from Tyrion's vision he went on. "You are a foul kingslayer, kinslayer, and degenerate that should be snuffed out for your crimes. It speaks quite low of this army that they allow you the freedom to breath."

The sandy haired Harry was the next to raise his voice to this growing conflict. "You've said that already, and you will watch your tongue, Ser. I myself am a part of this army and the Lord of Eyrie. King Aegon Targaryen is the one true King of Westeros and you will show him and his Hand their due respect." Tyrion would normally have welcomed anyone rushing to his defence, but sadly this was not the time for open hostility and confrontation. "This man is not any of those things you have called him and they are flagrant and offensive lies."

The leader of the Warrior's Sons grabbed the star shaped crystal on his blade's pommel threateningly and moved forward. "You dare to call me a liar? A man can be judged for his most grievous of sins and even we in King's Landing have heard of yours. Adultery and bastards are a very common tale that is remembered with your name, and in our world just being a Lord does not make you exempt from the Father's judgement, Lord Arryn."

That had been the final insult Harry could take. He reached over his broad shoulder gripped the handle of his longsword while moving past Tyrion. "Please let us all be calm." Urged the septa as she pulled back on Ser Wells arm and wrenched his hand from the sword. "We are not the judges of this world, that place is reserved for the Gods. For who are we to condemn those who have not yet seen the light of our makers? Please forgive Ser Wells, Lord Arryn, he forgets himself at the very worst of times."

"And Harry forgets himself all of the time." Said the Blackfish as he made his way up the hill towards them with his two wolves and their monster wolves following at their heels and the brave men of their army scattered as a result. "We surely did not mean to insult or quarrel with any of the Faith's chosen warriors or paragons." The Blackfish stopped in between both men and shooting a glare at Harrold he forced the Lord of the Vale to back off and release the grip on his blade. Truthfully Tyrion was not too worried about personal safety if things came to blow, it would be a pity however to lose the potential support of the Faith over something so petty. Balon was standing at the ready by the entrance of the tent and his fearsome morningstar was at the ready if anything was to happen, and the direwolves could be counted on if all else failed.

Arya Stark was dressed in a simple dress of dark grey wool and from the way she walked about there was doubt in Tyrion's mind that under it she wore breeches and boots. He had been warned by Aegon about the weapons that she hid on her person, however if she had them on her at the moment then she hid them better than any jester could his tricks up his sleeve. In comparison her younger brother Rickon had been her polar opposite and looked every bit as cold as she no doubt was. Rare were the times when his thin bow was not strung over his shoulder along with a quiver of short stone arrows on his back. Both of them did still look the very spitting image of what people would expect of the Starks of Winterfell with heavy cloaks made of bearskin on their shoulders. The trait they both shared however that none of the other Starks could boast was their cold grey eyes that spoke the truth of their house words as if the climate around them did not stress that well enough.

"Where is the King?" The Blackfish asked Tyrion as he stood beside him. In response Tyrion pointed to Aegon's black, red, and white pavilion while he kept a close eye on the direwolf called Nymeria who had become so big that she could swallow him whole. The Blackfish waited for Arya and Rickon to both come to his other side and then added. "Shouldn't we be with him if they are negotiating terms? We are part of his council after all."

Before Tyrion could respond, Ser Wells spoke up and answered the question in his place. "His Holiness requested a one on one audience with your King so they could freely speak together. He wishes to judge his true character. Unadulterated by your praises and words, my good Lord's." It was then that the man's eyes finally fell on the direwolves and to his credit he showed much resistance to the fear they commonly induced and if it had not become a favorite pastime of Tyrion's to observe the reactions people had when seeing them he would not have noticed any fear. "Beasts should never grow to that size. And they should be put down if they ever consume human flesh. You two children would do well to be rid of them lest you damn your souls."

Tyrion had been afraid of some reprisal either in the form of threats or actual violence from the girl, but to her great credit she showed great restraint and showed him little notice as she scratched at her wolf's head and under her the beast melted from her touch like a lap pup would. "You should be showing them proper respect, Ser Wells. They are Starks of Winterfell and you come from a northern family yourself. So unless your relative's loyalty to the Boltons has poisoned your mind, you should remember that they are the injured party here." It was quite the cutting retort from Balon Swann and Tyrion would not have said it better himself if he had the strength and size of Balon.

Even the septa by his side had raised a questioning eyebrow at that though Tyrion felt it was in simple jest to fluster the man's resolve. "The Boltons themselves are disgusting creatures who have broken the very sacred law that binds us all. I have faith in my Gods and I know in my heart that justice will descend upon them before the end." Ser Wells did not frighten or stutter easily and to that end Tyrion pitied the man that would have to fight him if it ever came to battle.

"And the Freys." The Stark girl murmured under her breath and Tyrion felt she was right in that they would be brought to justice before the end. They had reached too far and done too much to be allowed to continue as they were and Aegon would take any opportunity he could find to make friends with the North and Riverlands, even if that meant a genocide not seen since the Reynes and Tarbecks. Aegon had sworn to the Blackfish that he would bring down the very foundations of the Twins as vengeance for his niece and Robb Stark, but it was not only for their sake he would do it and Tyrion had made it quite clear that they would need to establish the custom of guest rights and the punishments for breaking it.

"Hello Lady Stark." Tyrion greeted her.

Her eyes had dimmed over and with a forced smile she replied back to him. "Lord Tyrion. And I'd prefer if you'd simply call me by my name. No titles are necessary."

He liked that and found it was much simpler to converse and be open with another "As you wish, Arya. But it would only be fair for you to refer to me by my given name too."

Arya nodded along with his suggestion halfheartedly and continued ruffling the fur on her direwolf's neck. Looking over her and to her younger brother Rickon, Tyrion followed his sight to the King's tent and it was a small wonder what he was thinking. Arya herself took notice of his staring and looked down at the boy and then at what he was looking for. "Hold still." She reached down and with the quickness of a cat she plucked a dagger of rippled steel from under the skirt of her dress. Where she could have hidden it, Tyrion had not the faintest clue. "Your hair isn't even." Arya said while she held her brother still and with the finesse only a trained warrior she sliced several hairs from his head.

The dagger was quite ornate and looked quite old as its handle looked quite insecure and wobbled in her hand, Tyrion noted. He had not an idea where she would have procured a dagger of valyrian steel from and it did not seem as if anyone had noticed the blade as he had. The Blackfish had given a sideways glance at her, but he did not give much care and simply turned back towards the pavilion, patiently waiting for what came next to come. "Where did you find that blade, Arya?"

"I was given it by a mute sailor from Pentos." She said as she held her brother's head straight and continued looking for loose hairs on his head. It was funny jape and Tyrion did have to thank her for breaking the solemn mood. However if she did not have the inclination to tell him then he would not dream of forcing the issue as there were already enough things to worry and wonder about.

They did not have to wait long as the flaps to the tent opened and the first to leave was the High Sparrow who held a neutral look on his hard lined face. "I thank you all for your hospitality and bless you in the light of the Seven." The man exclaimed loudly and paused to collect his breath and gauge the reaction and mood of the crowd, Tyrion guessed. It was with sure and steady footsteps that the man navigated his dark and gnarled feet into the foot holes stopped by others to protect his bare feet from the snow and down the hill. Some of the soldiers that had gathered to watch had thrown themselves to the snow as he passed by them. His Sparrows had fallen in closely behind him and it was with great silence that they trecked through the camps and back towards the Dragon's Gate.

It was Tyrion himself who had taken the first step towards the pavilion, but he was stalled as Aegon himself exited the tent in that instant and was uncrowned. It was in a great haste that he looked around the crowd and only did he stop when he landed on the Blackfish. He walked down the small slope and was followed closely by Balon. "Send out the word, we attack tonight." Aegon had whispered to the Blackfish, who nodded his head and departed with haste, which had disturbed Tyrion greatly as the promise was to give Jaime one day. The Silver King looked to Rickon next and held out his hand. "Rickon, walk with me."

The boy moved to step forward, but his hand was stolen by Arya who held him back and then moved forward with him. Aegon's violet eyes briefly wandered to Tyrion as well and and conveyed that he was to follow too. "What did he say?" Tyrion asked Aegon in a hush as they walked back up the hill and towards his pavilion.

It was not until the five of them were within the large tent that he had answered half heartedly. "Tonight, the High Septon has assured me that his Sparrows will open the gates to us. From there we are to operate as we see fit, and they themselves will protect the smallfolk." He however did not sound convinced or even happy of this news, which could only mean there were heavy clauses to this. "We can speak of all that later," He led them to the far side of his tent which was drawn open and provided an excellent view of King's Landing, one could see the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep all from this one location. Kneeling down beside the Stark boy he asked him. "Do you see that city, Rickon?" It was tentatively that the boy indeed looked at it. "It is a Kingdom of glass is it not? This is the legacy of my family."

Rickon's eyes had clouded over and became heavy lidded and made Tyrion ask himself why Aegon needed the boy to make this point. "But it's made of stone, not glass." Rickon replied in great confusion and Tyrion felt he was the only one who would understand. 

"No, you're not looking at the city, you're looking at the buildings. Look closer and past all of that, come now." Aegon prodded pointlessly.

Arya however did seem to somewhat have a grasp on his words and spoke up. "He doesn't understand what you're talking about."

Shaking his head Aegon continued and pointed at the city for Rickon as if it would help. "Nonsense, you sell him far too short."

"Leave him alone, he doesn't understand what you are talking about." She would not let this continue on and pulled Rickon back to her side as if trying to protect him. It was then that Tyrion turned and saw both wolves had found their way into the tent and passed by Ser Balon who stood at the entrance and looked on silently.

Aegon's face took on the same look of neutrality he had seen when he had first exited the tent, but it was fleeting and soon gave way to a small smirk. "I noticed you still kept those weapons on yourself, Lady Arya." It was a simple statement with no question that he put forward. Soon after he chuckled at either it or himself and rubbed at his tired and heavy eyes. Aegon then asked of her the same question he did her blood. "What do you see when you look at it then?"

"You shouldn't force this, they don't underst-" Tyrion tried to speak up in their stead, but was silenced by Arya.

"I understand him," She sounded insulted by his protest and so Tyrion did as she bid and regained his silence. "It's a city of rats and traitors who will turn on and betray anyone the first chance they get if it benefits them in the slightest." Tyrion could not disagree with her assumption of the city and he expected no less from who she was and from what the city had done to her family. It saddened him that someone so young could truly think of the world in such ways, yet he felt it was also a much wiser mind that she possessed.

The answer seemed to satisfy his curiosity, but he wanted more and needed to test her and then himself. "Good, very good. And what do you see passed the city?"

She took much longer to answer him then and it was only after Aegon had clicked his tongue in boredom did she answer. "A cruel world, a one where the best are murdered and taken advantage of. One that rewards those that hurt others."

It hurt something deep within Tyrion to hear such words from a girl of her age, but he knew things could have turned out better for her older sister if she had the same mindset at that age. Tyrion even wished he himself would have had that presence at that age for who he would have saved. "A cruel world is it?" The Silver King shook his head and chuckled under his breath. "But the world is not cruel. In truth it is an unnecessarily kind and fair world we live in. It does not favor one man or woman over the other, it never has and never will." That was a diluted mindset in Tyrion's opinion and one easy to come to when one looked as Aegon did and not as Tyrion himself was. "I've killed many a man without even a second thought of who they were. It was only after that I wondered just who they could have been, mayhaps they were charitable and kind or they were foul and selfish." It was then that he turned from the two Starks and looked back at Tyrion with a light smile. "But does this world condemn me for it?"

Rickon then spoke up and shook his head just as his direwolf came to his side and wrapped around his legs. "No."

Aegon's eyes lingered on Tyrion for the briefest of moments and then he turned back to the Stark children again and smiled. "No it does not, because it is far too gentle and permitting to judge me." The flaps to the tent parted as Marwyn walked into the pavilion chewing loud and heavily. "It could have struck down my grandfather before he fell to madness and murdered your grandfather and uncle. But did it? No, because while it could have killed one to save many it won't because it is too gentle to pick a side."

"Enough, Egg." Marwyn ordered him in a gruff and angry voice before spitting out a red ball of phlegm. "Lady Stark, can you please take your brother and leave us. We have much to discuss for the coming battle."

Aegon nodded his head and took a step back from the Stark children and continued to stare out at the city. Rickon however stepped towards him and grabbed his hand tightly. "Don't die." It was with a great chuckle that the last male scion of the Targaryens nodded his head and made the silent promise.

Pulling her brother away by the hand and towards the entrance, Arya waited for a brief moment and refuted him over her shoulder. "You're stupid and wrong." She then exited the tent with her brother to the howl of Aegon's laughter and even a small chuckle escaped Balon's lips as he escorted them out.

"All is lost if you were wondering." Aegon murmured as he reached out for a teal vial from Marwyn's hand. Throwing his head back and drinking down the substance, Tyrion watched as the liquid slowly crept from the glass and passed his King's lips. "The High Sparrow has agreed to help us in the attack and will proclaim me the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. After we have brought peace back to the city he intends to have me knighted and crowned on the steps of the Sept of Baelor." Nothing of that sounded too bad to Tyrion, which meant there was something much more sinister and costly. Aegon handed the vial back to Marwyn and kneeled down in the dirt of his tent. "In return I while ensure that the Faith is never shackled again. I will not marry out of the faith." Those were simple terms that Tyrion expected to hear. "And Margaery Tyrell will not be reintroduced to the faith and will never be allowed to marry within the light of the Seven due to her heinous sins of adultery and perjury."

It all made sense and Tyrion would have called it a mistake by the High Sparrow showing his hand so soon if it did not enable him a trump card. "He means to separate you from the Reach so in case he ever decides to overthrow you, he can offer her forgiveness to tempt them to his side. And so you can never form an alliance with them of course." It was a dangerous game he meant to play with the Kingdoms and it only brought to mind the Spider's riddle of three great men.

Aegon's eyes grew wide for an instant and then he keeled over in pain and gripped at his stomach as he vomited in the dirt of his lodgings. The smell was awful and it was Tyrion who stepped back as Marwyn reached down at Aegon and yanked up the sleeve to his left arm. Retrieving a fine edged blade from his bell sleeve, the Archmaester cut the linen wrappings on Aegon's arm and exposed his once wounded arm. "That poultice will thicken your blood. So if your wound reopens or if you get new ones, you will bleed much slower." It sounded well and good in theory, but the one who had drank the potion was currently trying to heave what ever his body could find in vain. "Don't be dramatic, Egg. Now stand up." Marwyn ordered as he reached under the man's arms and pulled him to his feet as if he was a small child.

"Fuck you," Aegon murmured under his breath and wrenched himself free of the bull like man's grip. "That was disgusting." He then tested the grip of his left hand and frowned at the wrinkled and scarred patch of skin where he once had missing flesh. "You'll have command of the camps during the attack tonight and as my Hand you have the discretion to use my powers how you see fit. Do you know what you will do if we fail?"

Tyrion had been led to believe that talking like this was not something that should ever happen and from the look on the Archmaester's face he felt the same, but he answered all the same. "I'll pull back however many we have left to Harrenhal." Aegon nodded his head along with Tyrion and seemed in agreement. Marwyn moved over to the table in the far corner of the tent and filled three crystal goblets with a dark red wine and carried them back over. He handed one to Tyrion then to Aegon and then kept the last one for himself. "Please don't die." He knew he sounded just like the Stark boy had, but it needed to be said.

Sniffing at the contents of his cup and sloshing it to and fro, the silver haired King chuckled. "Growing fond of me are you?"

"Well I would think so, I've followed you this far and to your own credit or foolishness you've taken me right with you the whole time. If we aren't somewhat fond of each other then I don't know what we are to each other." Tyrion drank from his goblet and was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was quite a good vintage for the weather. "What did you call me before? Friend, I think it was. So why would I want my friend to die?"

"And he's your King at that." Added Marwyn who then raised his own goblet in small respect. "You have too much work to accomplish after this battle, and I'm to be damned if I let you get out of it because you've gone and died." Tapping the bottom of Aegon's goblet he forced his lifelong ward to drink.

It pleasantly surprised Tyrion as he watched the scion drink from the cup, though not even enough to disorient a babe was taken from it. "Nearly a year ago you were a simple baseborn bastard and I was a convicted kingslayer, now you're a King and I am your right hand. No pressure, but do try your best not to let us slide back into our old roles if you will. I happen to greatly enjoy stumbling into comfortable feather beds with a belly full of good wine, and would like to continue living on like that."

"I'll do my very best, I promise. Hate to make my untimely death inconvenience either of you." Aegon poured the remaining contents of his cup into Tyrion's and walked to his chest and rummaged through it. "However I have had just enough of being the target of your dark humor. I think I'll spend some time with my soldiers before tonight and sing a ballad or two." He pulled the ornate lute from the clutter of his personal belongings which looked to include thousands of disconnected pages and a small tied sack.

Aegon turned from the room and walked away towards the exit to the tent and Tyrion called to him. "You don't need to play for coin, your Grace. We have more than enough coin to pay each of our soldiers and don't need you to deprive them of it." The Silver King paused for a moment and then hunched his shoulders over and kept walking. "Pod!" Tyrion called out in his loudest voice and moments later his squire appeared before the pavilion's entrance at the ready. "Go and find Bronn. Tell him we have much work to do." He knew that he would need someone who could be trusted to follow orders for the right price. Thankfully this one even had the status and authority of being a lord now too.

Pod nodded his head and turned to leave, but stopped and looked back at Tyrion looking as if he was fighting his nature. "Lord Bronn of the Blackwater?" Tyrion nodded his head and shooed Pod away with his free hand before chuckling at the boy's manners which Marwyn shared in. Looking around the room, Tyrion felt himself drawn to the heavy chest of Aegon's belongings and found his way over to it. Lifting the lid and grabbing a loose piece of parchment inside of it he gazed over the rough writings that looked to be made from charcoal.

 _Third moon and fifth day of_   _290 AC:_   _Third day in the village of Lockeport; Androw received a shipment of myrish oranges from a ship called the little sparrow today. Exactly thirty crates were taken from its hull and eleven of them I brought back to the shop for sale, other twenty two were carried to the square and given to a merchant by the name of Willam who transports them to King's Landing and sells them there at a marked up price. It is hard work and my hands still hurt from peeling the hard skin from my palms, but I will endure and Maester Marwyn will be back for me in seventeen more days._  Reaching down into the chest he picked up another page and read it's contents as he walked over to the table to refill his goblet.  _Third moon and tenth day of 290 AC: Eighth day in the village of Lockeport; I carried a crate of myrish oranges all the way outside of the village today! I needed to bring them to a farmhouse with a door of black hewn wood and the family that lived there was mean. The owner of farmhouse told me that the oranges were rotten and that he would not pay for them and warned me to leave his land or I would get hurt. Androw was not happy that I left without receiving payment and sent me back to get the money the man owed although it was already passed dusk. When I went back the man seemed much more friendly and payed me the money he owed and even gave me a hunk of bread and an apple. It had been so long since I had tasted bread that I ate it all even before I made it back to Lockeport._

The flaps to the tent parted and Tyrion and Marwyn both looked and saw Balon standing before them. "Is everything alright?" Balon asked as he looked back and forth between the sitting Marwyn who nursed over his wine and Tyrion who stood and gawked at the writings of a child. The old Archmaester nodded his head and pointed down at the camps. "Gone to pay for the men as he. Better go find him then," Balon turned to leave, but stopped and poked his head back into the tent. "I brought the children back to their tent and Lady Brienne of Tarth said she would watch over them, was that alright?"

Tyrion had long gone back to the chest and was picking through the chest for the next one of the writings. "Yes, yes. She's sworn some oath to their mother to protect them. I'd trust her with their safety over most here." The thick chested knight of house Swann nodded again and ducked back into the cold after the trail of his King. "What are these?" Tyrion asked Marwyn as he picked out another piece of parchment from 287 AC.

Archmaester Marwyn turned in his chair and smiled as he saw what was in Tyrion's hand. "He's been keeping those since he could learn to write. I've read over a few of them myself in times of leisure and boredom. He's been sporadically keeping up with them since I can remember." That seemed an understatement in Tyrion's opinion as there were nearly a thousand if not more sheets of parchment floating about and thrown randomly around the trunk. "He keeps a good sum of coin in that sack as well. It's all money he's gained from singing in taverns and inns, not that he needs it. I think he just keeps it to bolster his own arrogance, the brat." Marwyn snickered over the rim of his goblet which echoed into its crystal depths.

Acting to the best of his ability and patience, Tyrion searched for the most recent journal log.  _Third moon and twenty fifth day of 290 AC: Maester Marwyn has still not come for me and I still remain in the village of Lockeport, lodging on the floor of Androw's fruit hovel. The work has long lost it's difficult and no longer does my body hurt at night, unless a large shipment arrives from Dorne or from across the Narrow Sea. The other boys in the village have long stopped ignoring me and now have begun harassing me as I pass Blackhaven Stables. They are saying I must give them free fruit from the hovel and when I tell them I cannot they threaten me. I however am not scared of them and know that Marwyn will be here soon and this time will end._ The next piece of parchment was resting below the former and Tyrion shot the Archmaester one small glance before continuing on.  _Fourth moon and second day of 290 AC: When I did not give them my copper they took it by force. I threw sand in Byan's eyes and bit Geremy's nose, but they still had me outnumbered and it did not take long for me to lose conciousns-consciousnuss? Must ask Marwyn to teach me the spelling of that word. I also think they've broken my wrist as I cannot move my right hand. I did not cry much, I swear. I do not know what I will do when the shipment arrives tomorrow with one hand. Androw does not take excuses and as he says layabouts are left hungry and not missed when they die. I know that I cannot fight them again and that next time I will have to give them my coin even if it means not eating that day._ _  
_

"Excuse me, M'lords." Announced the familiar and confident Lord of Stokeworth. "Oh I thought I was interrupting something, but you're just reading dusty old writings as always." Bronn then looked at Marwyn and added with a wolfish grin. "With all do respect, M'lord Lannister."

Tyrion knew that he could find plenty of times to read more at better times and at this moment he had responsibilities to preform. "Took you long enough. I nearly thought Pod had went and got himself lost or killed." After placing the parchment back into the chest neatly he closed the lid and finished off his second cup of wine. "We need to make sure there are proper plans of retreat if all goes to hell."

"So you won't be expecting me to take part in the battle then?" Tyrion did not know if that made Bronn happy or angry with how he asked. "I don't really mind much, that city shares some good memories for me and I'd rather not take part in sacking it."

Marwyn stood up from his seat and groaned and stretched like a cat would as he shook his drowsiness away. "Even if we payed you?"

Bronn chuckled and shook his head. "I'd burn the place to the ground if the price was right." Both men then shared the laughter together, but to Tyrion that was nothing to joke about. "Or if the castle offered was big enough."

Oddly enough that was how Tyrion had planned to pay Bronn, the Rosby lands were ripe for handing out. Even if someone made a claim to the castle, much of it's lands would be butchered and distributed to the nearby Lords who had surrendered peacefully as thanks. "All the maps are already in my tent and I believe I have a full flagon of dornish wine that calls to be drank."

He tried to lead Bronn out of the tent, but Marwyn called out to him. "Before you go, don't tell Aegon that you read his writings. He is very defensive of them and would not appreciate you snooping into what he considers his mind. Just a warning, so do with that as you will."

Tyrion would remember that and it was thankful that he had learned of that as he planned to ask him about them the first chance he got. If not for the tales of his childhood, then for the secrets of what had happened that day in Riverrun. "I thank you for your warning." He said as his eyes looked on the very object he knew was involved in that day. They sat far tucked away in a side of the tent, crooked, spiked and menacing, but today they were as dry as the very deserts of Dorne unlike how he had seen them before and just what was the magic involved in the candles that could never be lit. It was in that instant Tyrion knew that practicing his theory over pondering it would be the only step forward in this mystery and tonight would be that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obvious, but a lot of building in this chapter and advancing of plot, but .... Next chapter is the battle of King's Landing so get hyped as I have 11 deaths penned.
> 
> As always if you see glaring spelling or gammer errors feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll be sure to correct them right away.


	56. The Lions' Final Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be a long one, so strap yourselves in and mourn for those who do not make it.

Jaime:

 

“Was it really worth it?” It was a simple question with an all too complicated answer Jaime felt. What he did know was that he was in pain due to the tumble from his horse and the heavy man sitting on his back and forcing his face into the shit smelling snow and dirt which was not helping. “Not talking is not an answer.” He said with a mouthful of apple and an all too neutral face which gave no signs of a care in the world. Almost as if the screams of the smallfolk and smell of burning homes was just imagined.

“I can’t breathe.” Jaime finally relented and the heavy bum on his back removed itself and was replaced with a wooden soled boot. It was not any kinder or easier on his body, but he could breathe easier now and he could see the results of their failed charge through the muddy way. It was chaotic at that time, but he faintly remembered his squire’s horse taking an arrow and falling in the path of Meryn Trant’s own steed. After that he remembered being on his horse and then seeing the ground and after that waking up here like this.

“Your Grace, a message from Ser Balon Swann.” Jaime could not see the owner of the voice, but he sounded far too young to be taking part in this battle. Crunching down in the snow to no doubt to bow Jaime guessed, the boy then said. “All of Flea Bottom has been secured and we are in full control of the Iron Gate.”

Another loud bite from the apple and with a full mouth he issued his orders. “Good, tell him to push up the northern road towards the Red Keep. And we'll be meeting you there after Lord Blackfish and Lord Harrold return from Monger’s Square. Also tell him that I have the Oathbreaker and that Ser Meryn Trant is dead. They won't be trying anything like that again, will you Ser Jaime?”

It had taken all his persuasion and what ever little authority he had left to round-up the meager hundred or so to take to horses and attempt to strike at the weak points in the invaders. Most had only wanted to stay on the walls of the Keep behind the ballistas, rolling logs and on the upside of the hill. Randyll Tarly had taken complete control over the Tyrell troops as Jaime knew he would as his liege Lord was far too preoccupied with shivering and no doubt pissing himself in fear of the prospect of an unwinnable battle. it was a prudent a safe strategy to sacrifice the city he had to admit and it might have been the best option they had, but it would be an almost unwinnable battle if they relied solely on outlasting their enemies. They needed to destroy their power base and send the invaders running from King's Landing as if the Stranger himself was chasing them. "Not for a while I don't think. Unless you'd care to give me another attempt? Think you can best me like you boasted near the Twins, boy?"

Aegon waited a moment and then gave out another order. "Pull his face out of that snow, I can't hear a thing he's mumbling." On his order Jaime was pulled from the snow and then thrown back down on his bum. There were much more than he hopped there would be, he expected they would have killed nearly half of them regardless of any traps or defence. A man did not need to be on his horse or even living on it to kill several men if it was in the midst of a charge. "Now do you mind repeating that, Oathbreaker?" His guard and soldiers looked to be still numbering in the hundreds on the long street and Jaime knew that some most likely were in the many buildings lining the street, looting, stealing, murdering and raping.

"I said I would like another chance if you're up for it. I'd understand if you declined of course, a boy like you must be quite overwhelmed by all of this." It was a gamble and a far shotted one at that Jaime knew, but he hopped for the him to get close enough for one desperate strike. If his luck prevailed he would be able to coerce him into a duel, and skill and mayhaps even luck permitting he could best him.

"And kill another member of the Kingsguard today? Now that might result in a fine number of new ballads I'd think. The mighty King Aegon slaying all of his enemies greatest warriors to reclaim his birthright." Aegon sat low to the ground, but in the snow he did not sit. Meryn Trant's corpse looked as if it had been violently tossed to the ground and his once white armor had been tarnished by the dirt of the road and impact from his fall off his horse. However that did not look to be the killing blow as on his back the Dragon King sat and through the back of Meryn Trant's head was the supposed Dark Sister which looked to firmly wedged passed his face and in the ground. A human sheath was the only thing that came to Jaime's mind when looking at his former brother in white and not a kinder man could have deserved it he felt. "Hope you put up a better fight than he did, I've fought slower cripples than him. You for one now that I think of it, so there is that going for you I suppose." Aegon took another small bite of his red apple and looked passed Jaime. "Ed, put your damn helmet on." Said the currently unhelmeted leader of the rebellion.

"We should just take his head and end this, your Grace. I beg you to let me do the honors myself, he deserves a quick death." It was Lord Tytos Blackwood who spoke, Jaime could not see him as he was still being held in place, but he knew. It was a sort of kindness Jaime felt he must have meant, or mayhaps he just hoped that was meant. A quick beheading just like the Old God's dictated, no cruel or unusual death just a quick swing of the sword and off comes your head. He could think of much worse fates and ways to go without even trying.

However the Dragon King had other ideas and shot the Lord of Raventree Hall down without hesitation. Aegon without apparent malice or meaning used his fabled sword to help him back to his feet and Jaime watched as the blade slowly and sank deeper into his brother in arms head. "Tell me Oathbreaker, was it all worth it?"

"I didn't trust you." It was a simple fact to Jaime. He would take vengeance for his sister and mother at the expense of Tommen, just like his grandfather would have. The man keeping a tight grip on Jaime pulled him to his feet and it was then that Jaime truly knew he was in bad shape as the pain coursed through his thigh. Looking at the man Jaime's assumption on the girth of the man was correct and on his balding head was a leather arming cap. Jaime looked to the eastern road and then knew his folly. A thick and wide chain had been strung the width of the road and buried low in a snow drift and without seeing it they charged right into it and ended their own charge themselves.

Jaime spotted his squire Rolly Waters who was still buried under Merwyn Trant's horse, but it was a blessing to Jaime that he died on the impact and did not suffer actual combat. "What shall we do, Ser Jaime?" He could still remember his voice clearly when the boy ran to him on the balcony of White Sword Tower, white-faced as a sheep and with the legs of newborn calf he was. "The ships in the harbor have begun bombarding us!" It was pointless exclamation he had made as if Jaime could not hear or feel the chunks or rock smashing into the city and walls all around them. When he called for the so called loyal men to follow him they all hesitated and in the end the first the stand was his squire, just as a squire should. A squire should never get in the way of the one he serves, that was the first and most important rule and in the end he followed it and even in death he did not trip or hinder Jaime. A good squire to the end and one in the wrong place in the wrong life, one who had dreams of knighthood and valor now dead.

"We do have time." Admitted Edric Storm; Robert's bastard by a Florent if Jaime remembered right and he was conceived on Dragonstone on Stannis' wedding night. If anyone he was one who did not understood the concept of the right time or place if his birth was any sign. The boy sneered at him as he passed and under his arm was the helm of the King and on the Dragon's head was it placed.

"Give Ser Jaime a sword." Aegon commanded as he bounced on the balls of his feet in a warm up. It was a novice move even by someone his age, Jaime was taught at a young age to never give away your style to an opponent before crossing swords with them. It still would be a difficult if not impossible battle, his leg was sore and Jaime still did not have a good grasp of his senses after the fall. Aegon on the other hand looked adamant and ready.

It was Meryn Trant's sword that they placed in Jaime's hand which would be trouble. The weight of the blade was far too foreign to his hand and the pommel felt unnecessary heavy even for a man of Meryn's size. "You do look like him." It was another fact that his heart told. Rhaegar may have been taller where Aegon was leaner, Rhaegar's hair was longer, but Aegon possessed the Martell widow's peak. They both shared the same look within their eyes however, a sort of sad acceptance of reality was how Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning had put it once. The balding man had stepped away and all the soldiers nearby spread out and circled around them in great anticipation.

"I know." Aegon said and with a flourish of his sword he raised it in Jaime's direction and proclaimed. "Jaime Lannister, for the crimes of breaking your oath to protect the royal house of Targaryen, I judge you guilty. Do you have any last words you would like to be heard."

The sun was beginning to poke out over the rooftops which was unfortunate. "Promise me Jaime, promise me you will protect us." Cersei had been hysterical and locked herself in the throne room when he had returned. "He is our last child, our last boy. We can't let Tyrion get to him." She cried as they squeezed Tommen's soft and plump body between them all while he sobbed in fear. It had taken all of Jaime's strength not to break down himself and lie to the boy that he would be harmed and that he could save them. 

"I will." Jaime promised her and then told her he must go off to battle once more. By dawn he had promised he would be back and she told him she would keep him to that promise. Her days in captivity had severely aged her he felt, even more so with her missing golden locks and it almost felt like a jape that in the end they both looked alike again, just as they were made to by the Gods. "Protect them with your life and you will be richly rewarded." Jaime promised the giant of a mute who had been placed in the Kingsguard during his absence by Qyburn. He said no words to Ser Boros as he knew whether the man tried or not he couldn't fight off Tyrion let alone a hardened warrior. He had been one of the prime examples of a Kingsguard failing in its duty Jaime felt, he had grown fat and slow just like Robert, but even more so as he could not stand on his power for long before breaking in pants and swaying like an old tree ready to fall would. He looked again at Aegon's visage and at the flickering black shade on his cold white armor caused by the dawn and it was then that he knew that his dream had finally been realized. "I never thought he would hurt them." But this time his sword did not grow lax and it held firm in his hand.

"Then I, Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of his name; King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar, sentence you to death." He held no shield in his hand, only a sword. Too heavy and unwieldy for his style, Jaime guessed, which was unfortunate as if he proved to be as skilled with a blade as he held himself Jaime would not be able to last long. 

"I choose a trial by combat." Looking around the area he could not find his shield in the snow. He guessed it had come loose during his fall from his chestnut horse or mayhaps someone had looted it from him after he fell, but regardless it was out of his reach now and Jaime knew he would have to go without it. "Promise me that you won't let that fate befall my children."

Aegon's violet eyes went dark and they followed the length up his blade and then stopped. "On my honor. I promise." He then closed his visor and no more was he a man in a silver and gold suit of scales, but now he was simply a Dragon ready to feast on a wounded Lion. "I accept your request, and I will stand in my own stead against you, Ser." Jaime nodded his head and swung his sword a few more times in vain trying to get a feel for its weight.

Jaime had made the first move and swung his sword horizontally down on Aegon. The Silver King blocked the strike and tossed Jaime back off but did not follow up the move and instead prowled around him. It was a great silence that befell the area, whether it was his just imagination Jaime could not afford to think about. However the only sounds he could find were the sounds of the crunching snow under their boots.

"Did he smile?" Aegon murmured under his breath as he struck again and nearly tossed Jaime off his balance. He was stronger than he looked and would not yield in his movements. Jaime did not know if it was imagined as the Silver King did not leave room for an answer said before slicing at Jaime's leg and nearly taking it off by the knee. Jaime hopped back and prepared his sword just in time to parry off a shallow stab perfectly used as a feint to cover up a fist that struck Jaime on the bridge of the nose and staggered him. Aegon did not push up his advantage which Jaime was thankful for. He could feel a warm liquid leaking from his face and he wondered if one of the scales had ripped him open. "Did you?"

 _I don't know,_ Jaime admitted shamefully as he pushed forward on the offence.  _I didn't._  Their swords clashed half a dozens times before a clear advantage was gained by Aegon who left a deep gash on Jaime's right shoulder. "I don't know!" Jaime screamed before Aegon's helmet came crashing against this forehead, splitting it open. It had taken all of his training and instincts not to release his sword and stifle the blood rolling down his face. _  
_

It took a small glimpse at his left hand that Jaime realized Aegon was bleeding. The droplets of red rolled through the lapses in his left gauntlet and dripped off his fingertips into the snow where they sunk. "Why!" Aegon screamed as he leaped forward and smashed Jaime in the throat with the crossguard of his sword which shattered Jaime's consciousness and rendered his knees as weak. His eyes had teared up from the force of the strike and he only felt the impact to the side of his head which knocked him down into the snow. A great weight landed on his chest and Jaime felt his sword knocked away from his hands and out of reach while his eyes fought to regain their sight.

There was no point in striking with his fists Jaime realized as he would simply harm himself against a fully armored opponent. This was to be the end, it was not a pleasant way to end, but a death brought on by protecting those you love is what most hoped for. If it seemed like justice and a suitable revenge for Rhaegar's son to kill him, so that his own children would live then Jaime felt happy to be ended in this way for their sake. Myrcella's face was the first to lighten his darkened sight, in his mind however she was not scarred and her face was not twisted in sadness and then disgust for who her father really was. She was happy and smiling, with flowers in her hair, wearing the most luxurious gown and brightest jewels on her wedding day. The slicing noise of a dagger being pulled out of a sheathe almost was good enough for a band on her wedding day if need be. He imagined Tommen growing to be a kind and strong knight, like Ser Arthur Dayne or Barristan Selmy, forgetting and moving on from his father's mistakes and memories.

"It's a man!" Announced a voice from around him and then it seemed the silence shared between him and his opponent was over as dozens if not more voices added themselves to the ballad all saying the same. In response the weight on his chest was removed and Jaime felt the air returning to his body. The colors of the world returned to him first before anything coherent, whites turned to shadows from the dawn's sun and that turned to a warm red that stung his eyes. "He's wearing the white of the Kingsguard." Said another unseen voice seemingly stunned by the perceived lunacy he was witnessing. "Thats the biggest man I've ever seen." Said another gravelly voice which hinted to Jaime that the man was older and perhaps experienced in war.

"Who is that?" Aegon asked Jaime in a even toned voice. After the vision returned to his eyes, Jaime forced himself through his pain and wiped the blood from his eyes. Aegon had returned to his feet and in his right hand was the dagger meant to end Jaime's own life and on its pummel was a sun. In his left hand was the very sword the Dragonknight used to save his brother's life and one which had reduced Jaime to the sore old man he never wished to become.

Far over the assembled crowd of soldiers was the very man Jaime knew Cersei would send just like she promised. "I'll be back by the dawn." Jaime promised his other half over and over before she would release her grip of him. In return for his freedom she had kept him to that very oath and would not let him out of it while her savior and champion stood in a silent vigil watching all. "Robert Strong." Jaime exclaimed before sputtering out a cough of pain.

Without an order given from Aegon several of the soldiers charged the giant protector of house Lannister. In an instant his brother in white had raised his absurdly large greatsword and cleaved two of the men into four pieces with a single swing. It was with a slight gasp of either fear or shock from the King that signaled the carnage that Jaime knew would come. With a single punch Strong had reduced a bearded man's head to nothing but gore and bone and it was followed by another swing of his sword which split another man from groin to hairline. Roars of anger and fear from Aegon's soldiers were then even louder than the bells which had first heralded the chaos of their coming.

It was when Aegon looked down at him with his sword primed and ready to strike and then go lax, that Jaime knew his trial by combat was over. He could not see the shine in Aegon's eyes at that moment due to his helmet, but Jaime knew that they were no longer enemies. They were now simply two people from opposing sides without any lingering malice toward each other. A strange fondness Jaime felt was shared between them and it was only more clear to him when Aegon turned from him and steadily marched with his men at the giant of steel, iron and an unstoppable will. "I give you leave to find your own end of your choosing on this day, Ser Jaime." It was then that the shame of Stannis Baratheon attempted to run by Aegon and to his death against the unkillable monster, however his King threw himself in the boy's way. "Run to Fishmonger's Square and bring everyone there, here." Jaime had expected a few words of argument and bravado as would be Robert Baratheon's way, but the boy hung his head in anger and did as he was bid.

Robert Strong was a sight and monster on the battlefield, just like Qyburn said he would be. Eight feet tall, legs rivalling the masts of fishing boats, with arms strong enough to best ten good men. Even for men of taller heights than Aegon, Robert Strong towered over them all, resulting in the last scion of house Targaryen looking akin to a child even from a considerable distance. He was more construct than man, Jaime realized as several hits from swords, axes, spears and even maces did little to hinder the giant in his armor. Jaime wanted to wish Rhaegar's last child luck, but he could not and did not try and instead exerted all of his strength into his body trying to will himself upright. It was a savage beating Jaime knew he suffered and it was some small comfort that he would most likely die on this day as the healing process would take days of bedrest. It was with no small effort that he stumbled back to his feet and using Meryn Trant's sword he hobbled on his injured leg. All of the soldiers had not given Jaime any attention or recognition as they passed him by to combat the uncombatable giant. _  
_

Aegon raised his ancestral sword to the heavens above and his soldiers bolstered by his actions cheered out again. "Five dragons to the man that kills him." Aegon exclaimed as he prowled closer and closer to the giant of steel as he wildly swung his sword and fist. One man had climbed on Robert Strong's back and attempted to dishelmet him and the second the man's hand had reached the opening of his helmet, Robert Strong had palmed the man's entire face and squeezed it to nothing but meat and bones. Lord Jonos Bracken had been the first man Jaime recognized fall to Robert Strong and it had been with a sickening scream from the Lord and crunching noise that his head had ceased to be whole. Aegon even faster now then Jaime had thought he was during their fight, charged forward ahead and was nearly bisected like the four other men beside him when Robert swung his greatsword. His sword looked to be half if not less the size of the armored giant's sword and Jaime did not see anyway for him to overcome that distance.

Dragging himself away and around the mass of fighting men, Jaime who for all the battles he had taken part in was not ready for the unidentifiable pile of carcasses surrounding his other half's unbeatable protector. It was all too obvious to Jaime that for Aegon this fight was lost, but it was not obvious to Jaime that Aegon knew that by the way he fought. If Dark Sister had not been valyrian steel Jaime would have guessed that the sword would have long split. The sparks that would fly when the mass of metal Robert Strong called his sword met that slender blade were bright enough to light a forge and the snow that melted below their fight had long begun to melt from the heat.

After three more swings aimed at Aegon resulted in narrow misses, it seemed to Jaime that Robert Strong had finally found an actual enemy to fight and not simply destroy. Every strike that Robert would throw, Aegon would backpedal away from or spin away and Robert Strong would not halt his advance and would then chase after him with seemingly impossible speed for someone of that size. Jaime had not seen someone move nearly as fast as Aegon did in armor however since the many heroes in the time of Robert's Rebellion, and yet even he seemed to be losing precious seconds after every swing from the giant of a man. Determined and ferocious in every step was Jaime's brother in white and regardless of how many he killed, he seemed to not tire or slow, but to get faster. For everyone who stood before him or put themselves between him and Aegon ended in all too similar ways, either from his sword or his pure and unstoppable strength.

The Red Keep was easy to see from the mudway, he knew in his heart that Cersei and Tommen were waiting for him to return. It had been so important that he return that she had sent their last line of defense to gather him. It was a pity, Jaime felt as he hobbled towards the one sent to save him.

Tossing himself into the fray next did Lord Tytos Blackwood and just like so many before him he fell. His sword had been cut clean in two just like the rest of the man, and in his wake covered from head to toe in blood was Aegon who pushed passed the man's body and left a long cut across Robert Strong's helm before retreating away again. "Run your Grace!" Called several of the men as they simply tossed themselves at the giant in an attempt to hinder him, several latched to his back and others on his legs, but in the end they accomplished nothing. Aegon however would not flee, just like his father Jaime knew sadly.

Aegon did not heed them as he boldly charged forward to his doom. He launched himself off the balls of his feet and in the process nearly lost his head just to get get in close enough and it was with such perfect form that reminded Jaime so much of himself, that the sword had struck cleanly from an upward stab and through the opening of Robert's greathelm. "Die!" Aegon roared. 

A collective cheer rang out for the briefest of moments, Jaime himself even felt his own breath catch momentarily. "Uhhhh!" Aegon exclaimed in fear as Robert Strong's free hand caught him by the forearm and lifted him off his feet. Dark Sister was still stuck through his eye slit, deep enough from Jaime's perspective to have cleaved his head in two and yet Robert Strong had still lifted him off the ground with one hand like one could carry a babe. And just like a babe would when hungry or lonely, Aegon cried out and moaned in pain as a sharp bone crunching sound filled the morn. It had been joined soon thereafter with the cries of fear, panic, and hatred of his soldiers. Those still on Robert's back used whatever weapons they had to strike at him and the ones on his legs looked for any gap in his armor.

Flailing wildly and futily at Robert Strong was Aegon with his remaining dagger still in hand, too far to reach and too powerful to die was the monster come from his nightmare. Another man, stocky in build with the crest of house Brune crossed with a mountain smashed Robert Strong's sword hand in with mace at such a force that it dented his white gauntlet, yet it did not even flinch Ser Strong. With another swipe of his sword he had cut the mace wielding man's head in two at his nose. With an outstretched arm from the strike the brute however had left himself open and it was with a descending cut that Jaime struck with Meryn's sword and cut through nearly three quarters of Ser Strong's bicep left unguarded by the plate metal. It was with mute confusion that the giant of a man looked at Jaime and pushed him away with his sword hand, as if he was trying protecting him. The jerking motion of his arm did not help him in the least however as with a slight tearing noise the weight of his sword and lower arm combined, tore through the threading skin left from Jaime's strike and with a heavy thud did the arm fall to the ground. Another man, nearly six feet tall who looked to be bulging with muscle stepped close to Robert Strong and swung his bearded axe down on the arm that held Aegon up. It was not enough to break or cut through the plate, but it was enough for Aegon to find himself to freedom.

It seemed reasonable to Jaime now that Robert Strong would not last much longer with those injuries, however the fact still remained that where is arm had torn away, there was still no blood. It was not a fact lost by the nearly thirty or so men that remained standing from Robert's rampage. It was with a loud scream that sounded akin to the howl of a dog that started the charge at Robert Strong. It looked to Jaime that it took nearly half of their whole numbers to finally knock the inhuman giant to the dirt and when they did so they struck at him with anything they could find be they conventional weapons, rocks or fists. Robert Strong though still somehow had not only remaining life in him, but the will to keep on fighting and so he did just that killing another man with a punch that collapsed the center of his face. Aegon who was writhing on the ground in pain and clutching at his arm stood back up and ran at the giant who had nearly ended his life and crippled him. With long and wide steps he climbed the mountain of men and wrapped his one good hand around the hilt of Dark Sister which was still sticking from Robert's helm and with a loud cry he thrust it again and again and again.

Jaime knew that he needed to run if he was to make it back to the Red Keep now, and somewhere inside of him he knew that he had repaid another debt he owed once more.  _Pity she'll never see what a good influence she had on me._ _Praying for me no doubt she is. Don't die, I imagine._ With a weak chuckle that made his whole body hurt, he pulled himself away from the madness and wobbled with unsteady feet up the Aegon's Hill and towards the Red Keep. "Die!" He heard Aegon roar and then the sound of metal being pierced was heard all around. Turning to them one last time he saw Aegon pull the sword from Ser Robert's head, and for the first time Robert Strong made a sound, his final gasp it seemed. Robert Strong though would have the last word in this conflict and so the sound of his moan was followed by a great gushing of black liquid from the opening of his greathelm that smoked and burned the very air and covered Aegon's right arm and face entirely.

Sickening was the feeling in Jaime's gut as he watched the metal twist and bend under the black blood that impossibly boiled. King Aegon fell back off the mountain of a man's corpse and cried for his mother and gods while rolling in the dirt in absolute pain. The first man who attempted to remove the armor from him had touched the black blood and with a cry of his own it then melted through his hand and down to the very bone. "I'm sorry," Jaime murmured in great pain to the Silver Prince who he had let down a second time. "I've failed you again."

The climb back up Aegon's Hill had been treacherous without using the roads, but he did not trust being ambushed him by over zealous soldiers that strayed too far. The invaders he knew for now would not attack the Red Keep with all their might for a time being without their King's command, but he also knew the commanders and lords in his army, and it would not take long for them to assume complete control of the situation. When nearing the gates, Jaime saw many peasants clinging to and banging on the gates in desperate attempts to force the Tyrell and Lannister troops to open the gates and protect them. Spotting him immediately the Lannister's on the walls called for the gates to be opened and he was quickly escorted into the castle, those peasants who had found their way inside were savagely beaten and thrown back over the walls.

Many courtiers had forced themselves to Jaime and assisted him on his walk back into the Keep, all begging for news of what had happened or if they would succeed. It felt to Jaime like they thought they ever really had a chance. "Bring me to the King." Was all Jaime would tell them over and over regardless of their response. It was later that a company of Tyrell troops had stopped them on their way to Maegor's Holdfast. "I need to see the King, it's urgent."

It was a man with a drooping face and bushy mustache who had led the Tyrell troops and blocked his way. "Lord Tarly and Lord Tyrell have commanded me to escort you to them, Ser Jaime."

"I don't give two fucks what either of those cunts have commanded you. I don't serve them, I serve the King and it just so happens they do as well. Now get out of my way." He did not have time to waste on the Tyrell's or their soldiers. He needed to return to Tommen, just as he promised he would.

As Jaime attempted to walk passed them they held fast and would not budge from the hall. "I have orders. Now come with us, Ser."

"Fuck your orders, now get out of my way." Jaime attempted to push passed the man, but he was violently pushed back and when they did so his own soldiers with him had drawn their weapons in preparation of defending him.

 _Fine._ Jaime knew he could not risk a conflict with them here, not now. "Do you truly mean to strike me? I am the King's uncle and the commander of his Kingsguard."

"Please Ser Jaime. It's time for you to come with us." The man's hand then lightly went to and tapped the short sword at his hip.

Jaime turned back and looked at each and every face of the men still loyal to his house. Some old, some young, some familiar and some were not, but he felt they would follow him until the end. "Lead the way." He said and so the Tyrells led them towards the Great Hall. Lord Tarly and several dozen of his own loyal troops had been lining the throne room when Jaime had arrived. Looking around the room, Jaime spotted Lord Tyrell cowering near the empty throne however he was not what caught his eye as Ser Boros was next to him, barely staying on foot even with the assistance of his cane. "Why aren't you with the King?" Jaime nearly screamed at him as he made his way over to the obese and thoroughly useless member of Kingsguard. "Robert Strong is dead, someone needs to be watching over them."

Lord Randyll then spoke up in place of Boros Blount with all of the commanding presence Jaime knew him well for. "I called him here. We need to discuss the terms of our surrender."

"Surrender? Why would we surrender, we still have the Red Keep, plenty of munitions and food on our side. We can still turn this battle around." Jaime argued and though he did not believe in truth they could win, he did so as he knew what the Tyrells were planning and he would not let that happen to his dying breath.

"No we cannot, it is over. The day is unfortunately theirs. I've lost all contact with our troops near the harbor and the survivors who were defending Flea Bottom have already returned to castle broken and battered." Randyll left no room for Jaime to argue and turned to Ser Boros instead for his next order. "Go and collect the King and his mother, we will bring them to the walls and surrender with them there." Just like the paper shield Jaime knew he was, Boros moved to follow Lord Tarly's orders without pause or thought of his oaths.

"Stay put." Jaime commanded his brother in white and so Boros did. "I won't let you take him. We swore and an oath to protect and serve him, that does not end simply because it does not benefit you any longer."

"There is no other choice, this battle was over the moment they snuck into the city and caught us by surprise. You know that as well as I do, you just wish to die honorably as you see it. But I can't afford to think or act so rashly, I have others to think about like my son and his safety or my mens' for that matter." Randyll then signaled his men and without hesitation they moved on Jaime. "Take the Kingslayer into custody along with Ser Boros. Aegon Targaryen will want them I'm sure."

Jaime with great haste pushed passed Ser Boros and wrapped his arm around Lord Tyrell's throat and used him as a shield between himself and the Tyrells. "Stay back or I will cut his throat." Jaime warned them as he slipped the ornate golden handled knife from Mace Tyrells belt. "Take all of your troops with you and leave the Red Keep now, or he dies." Lord Mace tried to struggle with Jaime's hold, but he would not release him and readjusted his forearm under his throat for a better grip.

Lord Tarly did not look at all concerned for his liege lord, and even when Jaime's own soldiers drew their swords to his side. "If you do that then I will be forced to kill you. After that I will still surrender your son and sister over, it's the only choice I have."

"Even if Aegon Targaryen is dead?"

That seemed to finally break the emotionless visage of Randyll's hard face, though only slightly. "Did you kill him yourself?"

"No, Robert Strong saw to that before he fell himself." Jaime said to them, leaving out the important blow he himself struck to his brother in white.

The Lord of Hornhill sniffed the air loudly and shrugged his shoulders. "Matters not, even if he's dead it's more to reason why we need to surrender while we still have a chance. Brynden Tully and Bronze Royce will not stop fighting simply because their King has fallen, history has already proven that. Neither of them are fools and they will see fit to finish off any opposition they see still standing to protect their own interests." Randyll then reached over his shoulder and removed Heartsbane from it's sheathe and prepared himself for combat. "Now this is your last warning, let him go."

Jaime knew he could not, and then counting numbers roughly in his head he also knew they could not win a fight against the Tyrells here. It left him with only one choice if he meant to fulfil his promise and duty. "So it is." With the hardest kick he could muster he sent Lord Mace tumbling towards Lord Tarly, who with great movement evaded his heavy lord who tumbled to the floor. It would not be considered honorable Jaime knew, but Brienne would need to forgive him as he turned and ran for the far door to the great hall towards Maegor's Holdfast. Before he could reach the door however a halberd wielding Tyrell with bushy red hair blocked his way as the chaos of the fighting broke out all around them. Armed with only a dagger Jaime knew he would need to dodge the first strike and then close in on the man before he had time to recover. The man had been quite slow which suited Jaime just fine and after the first blow he charged with all of his speed and ignored the pain in his leg as he sunk the dagger deep into the man's throat. Giving one last look to the throne room before fleeing and with a single thrust of his sword Randyll Tarly had stuck Boros Blount in the chest. Tarly turned to Lord Mace however and did the unthinkable in Jaime's mind, with a quick slice of his sword across Mace's throat he bled his liege lord dry and then tossed him back down to the floor carelessly like one would a hide or animal carcass.

Shutting the door and jamming his dagger in it's lock he hoped that it would hold them up for a time. Maegor's Holdfast was the only thing on Jaime's mind for a time as he ran through the nearly empty halls of the Red Keep, only looking down a few times at the blood still flowing from his leg. When he had reached the gates to the Holdfast that were thankfully still open, he briefly spotted a trebuchet round fly over the walls and then heard it strike the castle itself. _I have to hurry._ Jaime told his body as it started to fail him again. Just like the night before Maegor's Holdfast was empty and hauntingly so at that. Upon reaching Cersei's bedchamber he found them sitting together on her bed, him on her lap and her combing her fingers through his hair while his kittens played at the foot of the bed.

"You're both safe." Jaime exclaimed as he dropped to his knees and panted away at everything. It had felt like nearly ten years since he had seen them last. Looking up at his twin's face he was confused. "What's wrong?"

Cersei was still very quiet even when she spoke, almost too quiet for Jaime to understand her. "You're late."

"I'm sorry, I did my best and I did come back didn't I?" Jaime crawled on all fours to the side of the bed and put his chin on the soft featherbed. "Are you alright, Tommen?" Jaime asked his son as he reached for his hand and took it within his own.

"I thought you were dead." Cersei said emotionlessly as she carelessly palmed a small vial in her free hand. "I thought it was over for all of us."

His hand was far too cold Jaime knew, and with all his might he climbed onto the bed and stole him from his other half. "Tommen, Tommen you have to wake up. Tommen please wake up." Jaime repeated his name over and over in a panic and shook him with everything he had and still his eyes would not open. "What did you do?" Jaime asked her while he continued to shake and nudge his non respondent son.

"I wouldn't let Tyrion take Tommen from me, not like he did Joff. I would not let him be butchered like the Targaryens were." Cersei's once vibrant green eyes were no longer that, they now were simply lifeless and cold now."

Placing Tommen softly back on the soft feather bed he grabbed his twin by her shoulders and forced her to finally look at him. "Why did you do this? Tyrion did not kill Joffrey! Myrcella is still alive, and you killed our son because of what? Your insanity?" Jaime could feel himself slipping and the more he stared at this woman the more he detested and even loathed her. "What did you do?"

She gently placed her hand in Jaime's and released a tiny vial into his hand. "It is just like going to sleep I'm told, no pain, no suffering ... just a deep slumber." With little life in her movements she placed a small kiss on Tommen's cheek and again combed his hair back with her pale hand. "It will just be us now, we will die just as we came into this world ... together." She was mad and speaking lunacies that broke Jaime's soul.

"What did you do, Cersei?" He was no longer asking her and with his one remaining hand he tilted her face towards him and made her answer him. "What did you do?"

Her lips quivered ever so slightly before she answered. "I won't let anyone take the throne from us, I won't ever let them separate us again." She tried to kiss him, but Jaime kept her face away from his at all costs. "I've ordered Qyburn to light the wildfire cache under the Red Keep. We will let them be the kings of the ashes." It was in that instant that Jaime knew that she was madder than even the Mad King was, she had lost her sanity years ago and it was only now just like then that he realized what must be done.

Pulling her close one last time their lips molded together perfectly and she moaned for him just as sweetly as she had at Casterly Rock the first time they had ever touched each other. "Forgive me," She had no time to think about his words before his last hand had wrapped around her throat and squeezed with all of his strength. Pushing her down on the bed he moved on top of her and pinned down one of her free arms with his golden hand. She went through a variety of emotions in Jaime's eyes, confusion, rage, sadness, anger, confusion again and finally after scraping away at his face she finally stopped moving and no longer did her eyes search for any answer from him. He kept squeezing her throat for a time to make sure she was dead and when finally sure he placed one final kiss on his other half's lips and  gave one final and first kiss to their son's cheek. There now was only one thing left to do. Aegon was dead, Tommen was dead, Mace Tyrell was dead, Joffrey was long dead, Robert even longer, Robb Stark dead, and Renly too.  _Let no one be King, burn it all and let the snows cover the ruins of this filth._ Jaime gave one final look at Tommen's peaceful form and unbesmirched form and lifted Cersei off the bed and into his arms. She was heavier than he remembered her being, she looked older too, though in death she did look peaceful.

Moving over to the balcony near the end of royal apartments he walked out in the cold winter air and stood over the snow filled moat of glistening spikes. After adjusting his eyes to the bright morning sun he looked far over the city in deep thought. He still fondly remembered the first time his father had taken him here, he still remembered meeting Aery's before he was mad, the sorrow inducing songs he would hear Rhaegar play well into those nights, and he most of all remembered the smell. Stinking shit that had long festered and plagued the city. This had been a city of great suffering for so many, everyone in Westeros would be well rid of it, he reasoned.  _Let the Kingdoms become seven again._ Putting one leg over the railing at a time, Jaime readjusted his other half so she was just close enough that their faces could touch. "Good fortune, Brienne."  _Don't end up like me._ He could not say it aloud, not in front of her, but Jaime knew that he need not worry about that.  _You'll still be the same boring maiden fifty years from now. won't you._ He wished to take one look, but before he could take one final look at the castle he so detested he felt a force push on his back and into the air he and his half went. The person was not strong, but they didn't need to be, just enough to claim the honor of killing the Kingslayer and robbing himself of that honor. Hugging Cersei close to his body he shut his eyes, not wanting to watch himself fall, but he knew that he had done so long ago and wondered if Eddard Stark's boy had felt the same sensation of flying before hitting the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rip Jaime. Girlfriend's birthday was two days ago so I of course showed her this chapter, the pain I cause fuels me like a drug. Martin might be onto the source of immortality I think.
> 
> So then, who pushed Jaime Lannister? Hmm, any guesses?
> 
> More deaths are coming and will be talked about in the next southern chapters, but next time on Dragon Ball- I mean next chapter is from Jon. Lol
> 
> Feel free to discuss whatever floats your boat in the comment section as I'm quite eager to hear from everyone.


	57. Dangers in the Dark

Jon:

 

“He will burn for his crimes.” King Stannis’ proclamation still echoed through his mind, along with the conflicting jeers of disapproval from those who believed the northern way was the only way.

“You have no right! Take his head in front of a weirwood, the only way a man should be executed, the northern way!” Wynton Cerwyn had boomed aloud to Jon’s dismay, which was only deepened when several more sons and brothers cheered their agreement to that favored sentiment.

The supposed King of the Seven Kingdoms and his men had not taken well to their outburst and Ser Godry Farring had challenged them, adding to the rising hostility and conflict between those loyal to Stannis and those loyal simply to the Stark name and ways. “He has every right, he is your King and you wolves will remember that distinction.”

From the way the Baratheon King had ground his jaw it was apparent to Jon that he had not taken any better to the insult than Ser Godry had. “Do you not hate this Bolton bastard? Do you not wish to see him pay for his crimes against you and your liege's house? I will give him to the fires as punishment for those crimes. I relented to your demands on Lord Bolton and Lord Stark himself took his head before your very eyes and before a weirwood, was that not enough?”

It was with the very sword on Jon’s lap that he had done it. Staring deep into the rippled patterns of Longclaws blade it brought back the eeriness of Roose Bolton’s final walk through the weirwood to his doom. He said no words when they pushed him over the block, and he still said nothing when Jon asked for his final words. Only when Jon had finally raised Longclaw over his head did Lord Bolton say his final word. “Bastard.” The first cut of the blade passed halfway through Lord Bolton’s pale and hairless neck and he then let out a small and quiet gurgle of blood. Jon wasted no time with the second strike and with it came Bolton’s head which rolled to the ground as a small sputtering of blood rose from his neck.

The Northmen had given no cheer to his death and even for how much they had hated him they still showed him respect in death. It was something that Jon felt was not fair, but it also felt right to him all the same. The King’s men had not showed the same respect and all reacted like one would to the news of an upcoming visit to a brothel. Stannis had still been Stannis and simply kept his peace until the man was dead and after that he had taken his leave as quickly as he had arrived.

It had been decided that Ramsay Snow would be executed the day after his father, Jon did not know why Stannis had prolonged their sentencing, but after hearing of the burning it was all too clear. “He was still deciding for himself.” Jon muttered aloud as he watched the King’s men stacking spare firewood in a great pyre that would soon engulf the monster who had been the cause of his oathbreaking. But in truth Jon knew he was simply pushing blame away from himself.

The letter still weakly hanging from his hand, Jon briefly looked down at the signature and felt a mix of happiness and sadness. _Sansa Arryn_. She had written a long and informative letter that had arrived by way of a dying raven not two days past. _Arya is safe and well, she misses you just as I do. It is strange to say these many words to you, I don't know if in all the years we lived together I was ever this open with you._  It had nearly made Jon drop to his knees in thanks to the Gods that Arya was still alive, he knew in his heart that it couldn't be true. Sansa had then gone on at length about their childhood and Jon would have lied if it did not give him some relief that she did not judge him false for accepting Winterfell. _We are the only three Starks left in this world, we need to be together and not opposing each other as we are now. The pack is strongest when it stays together as father told us._ She was right, Jon knew in his heart that he could not take Winterfell from either of them, oath to Stannis be damned. He had however recognized her insistent on three not four, which raised the question in Jon's mind if Lord Wyman lying. _Was it written far ago and just finally arrived?_ Jon wondered as he kept reading.  _I hold no affection or fondness for this Dragon King, but my husband and love has seen fit to kneel before him and as such I must do my duty by him. So with that I must beg you from sister to brother, to surrender when the time comes. Too much blood has already been spilled from our family and I could not bare to see yours added to that._

“What are you reading?” Donnel Flint asked quietly as he walked up to Jon, balled up in his heavy furs and leathers.

“A letter from my half-sister.” Jon answered him solemnly as he pushed himself back up to his feet and stretched away his stiff pains. “It seems she has gotten married to the Lord of the Vale.” Jon would not divulge the information of Arya outloud for now, as he knew that Stannis would have a need to hear it first. “Is it time?”

Black Donnel smiled a crooked smile and nodded his head fervently. “Aye, the King Stannis has called for you.” Jon returned Longclaw to its scabbard and held it over his shoulder as Donnel led the way. “They've brought the Kraken’s Daughter out of her cell to watch that bastard burn too. Not really sure why, but Alysane was mumbling this morn about it not being a good place for a woman first time expecting.”

Donnel the usual collector of chatter and gossip prattled on while Jon still clung to his opening statement. _Could she have demanded it?_ Jon wondered. _Vengeance for her brother? Reek, reek, it rhymes with meek._ The abomination of a man that Ramsay had created from Theon still cowered when anyone would draw near and any time that he was referred to by his real name. Jon had hated him when he heard of what he had done to Bran and Rickon and even more so later, but this thing he had been reduced to was more punishment than any man deserved.

“How is she herself holding up?” Jon asked Donnel as he frequently was spending time with the Mormont family of late, who were the ones assigned to keep an eye on her. “Lady Val told me she was demanding moon tea not too long ago.” And Stannis had denied that to her, demanding she produce an heir to the Greyjoy’s and only then may she be judged for her crimes. _I will not kill an unborn child or allow you to for your own selfish inclinations._ King Stannis had ordered the Kraken’s Daughter in Jon’s head once more.

Donnel scratched his greasy head and said. “I couldn’t really tell with all the furs on her and all, but I think she is showing. Truthfully it’s only hearsay, M’lord.”

“My lord,” Jon corrected him. “and use my name, we don't need to put on airs when alone.” It was an annoying habit that many around him would commit when in private and he was far past being tired of it. Did he seem such a stickler for traditions and petty acts of command? “Could I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Jon.” Donnel said with a small smile on his lips as if he was a child just caught doing something bad.

“What do you think I should do with Theon Greyjoy?”

“Theon-do you mean Reek? That man scares me, always shuffling around and muttering to himself.”

Jon was sick of hearing that word and with more force or anger necessary he made his displeasure known. "Theon, not Reek. His name is Theon Greyjoy and you won't call him Reek any more. Do you understand me?" Jon shot a quick look at Donnel whose breath caught in his throat briefly before he bobbed his head in understanding. "So what do you think his fate should be?"

"Death, take his head and be down with it." There was no uncertainty or doubt in Donnel's mind that was quite apparent. "He killed your brothers and burnt this castle nearly to ash. If he did that to me than I would've him on a block before he could even plead for mercy." He was right and Jon knew that it was the only real choice he had.

 _It might even be mercy for Theon at this point._ Jon wagered. "And what about offering him a chance at repentance?"

"The Night's Watch?"

Jon nodded his head and remembered the fine bowman that Theon Greyjoy once was in another life that seemed to be forty years past if Theon's appearance was any indication. "They will need every man they can get. The Others are coming sooner rather than later." It was infuriating trying to convince the Northern Lords of that truth, even King Stannis and his own men who knew the truth for themselves felt it was more important that they take the Iron Throne first. "There won't be time for us to fight the Lannister's and Targaryen's before the Wall falls. We need to appeal for their help to defend the Wall, it won't matter who the King of the south is if we can't stop them."Jon had argued hard, but it had mostly fell on deaf ears the day before and only a select few had backed his stance. The chief support being from his usual supporters; Lady Maege Mormont and in subtler effort Lord Galbart Glover.

"An easy target for arrows I 'pose. Craven can barely hold his bladder when a door shuts too loud. Can't imagine him standing before and fighting monsters right out of my mum's tales." He was missing Jon's point completely, though he did not know what the old Theon was capable of and could not be blamed for that ignorance.

Rounding the corner out of the Godswood, Jon picked up the scent of freshly hewn wood over the cold air. "Before I left for the Night's Watch, that Craven was the best shot I'd ever seen with a longbow. They need more than just soldiers, they need those who can train recruits."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. You're my Lord and it's your choice ... though it might bring more trouble than it's worth." Donnel stumbled over his feet and dropped to a knee in the snow. Getting his meaning Jon took his lead and leaned over to help the Flint heir back to his feet. "Some are questioning your ability to lead the North, and plan to use your decision as a test of your character." Black Donnel whispered and his eyes shifted around quickly and then darted back to Jon's own eyes. "Lord Daron Overton, the Greatjon, the Lord Lake, and Lady Cerwyn."

Continuing on their way towards the castle's courtyard, Jon's mind wandered to those four names. "My sister Sansa." Jon knew that she had to be their only option and that meant they were the most fervent of his detractors.  _Gods alone know how many will openly show themselves after they know Rickon is alive._

Black Donnel kept his head straight and forward and the slight bob to his head confirmed Jon's suspicions. "Arston, what you doing by your lonesome?" The heir the Flints called out to the ginger haired man who hoped to claim the name Dustin for himself.

"Waiting for someone to latch myself unto. Hate not having anyone to whisper to in big gatherings like this." The Hare's bright brown eyes then looked in Jon's direction and they widened in shock before he thrust himself into the dirt and bowed his head. "Forgive me, Lord Stark. I did not see you there."

"Nothing to forgive, Lord Hare." Jon exclaimed as he passed by the kneeling hopeful lord of Barrowton.

Jon heard the crunching sound of Arston's boots in the snow behind and soon after that followed his voice which cracked with nervousness. "I'm no Lord, my Lord of Stark. My uncle is a lord, not me. And my cousin was, but he died years ago during Robert's Rebellion." His attempts at dropping subtle hints at his right to Barrowton were not being missed by Jon, though he had no time or energy to devote to this now or even in the near future.

"Mayhaps we can speak of this another time. I believe we are all expected to be at the burning." Jon felt his disdain of the act was apparent, but he would not waste more time. He could see the assembled crowd now that they'd entered the and over their heads was the high platform erected of fresh timber and on it was King Stannis and his red priestess Melisandre. The heavy snowfall of the day before had been completely cleared out of the courtyard and Jon briefly wondered where they had found a place for it.

"Jon Stark." Called out a gruff and booming voice. Turning to the source Jon was first met with the thick torso of the Greatjon. When looking up at the man's stern and tough face, he grew angry. "Your wildling wife and direwolf have been waiting for you."

"Not boy?" He asked as it was the Greatjon's usual insult directed towards him.

The giant of a man shook his head and bushy grey-streaked beard. "Not today,"

Jon then did as he bid and looked over the man's shoulder and true to his word he could see Val balled up in her white bears furs with Ghost wrapped around her leg. Beside her was Jeyne Poole who fiercely clutched Val's hand in a dead man's grip.  _This is no place for her._ Jon wished Val would have kept Jeyne away, they had argued about her the night before until the very latest hour of the wolf. "Thank you, Lord Umber. I'll go to them now." It took a great effort not to confront the man then and there and in truth Jon wished that the man would simply return home like he had threatened to do nearly everyday now.

He then tried to move passed the Greatjon, but Jon felt the large hand of the man wrap around his bicep and hold him back. "Keep your family close, trust your wolf above all else and let the others rot." The giant of a man then released Jon and pushed his way through the crowd in the direction of his uncles.

 _Was that a threat?_ Jon wondered briefly as he pushed his way through the crowd towards his wife, it was however worrying regardless of the intentions behind it. Jon then pushed the sword's sheath harder into his shoulder in frustration as he spotted Princess Shireen, Queen Selyse, and their fool Patchface who had not served to bring one smile to Jon's face, but rather night terrors to Jeyne Poole. "This is no place for a little girl." Jon murmured aloud nearly forgetting himself.

"I don't even know if I meself want to be here." Black Donnel japped in an attempt to alleviate Jon's tension, which was most welcome at this moment. In truth just by the way they stirred it was apparent to Jon that none of the Northmen wanted to witness this and those were the quiet ones. Those who were either too brave or stupid to know that the time for arguments was not here, they on the other hand complained quite loudly in comparison.

Climbing up steep stairs to the peak of the platform Jon heard Donnel separate and go off to find his own place for the coming execution. "You're late, Lord Stark. I was ready to send an envoy to go and find you."

"My apologies, your Grace." Jon knew Stannis did not take well to tardiness and would not excuse it a second time if possible. Looking out over the assembled group of Northmen and King's men and counted roughly four hundred men all prepared to watch another burn alive. Not far from the Queen and her daughter, Jon then spotted Val and poor Jeyne Poole once more and gave them a small smile he hoped gave them some comfort though his wife in truth needed none for this he knew. 

Stannis clicked his tongue in some annoyance and wiped at his running nose. "Well ... be sure it doesn't happen again."

Jon's eyes scanned back to the Princess Shireen and he met her gaze for a slight moment before she blushed and her gaze lowered to the dirt under her feet. "Is this really the best thing for the Princess to witness? Would it not be better-"

The Red Priestess Melisandre seemed to float over to Jon's side and her impossibly warm breath tickled his neck. "There is no better place for her to be, Jon Snow. She will witness our Lord's power and justice for herself, could you think of a better thing?"

Jon could think of several, not including simply getting her out of the frigid cold. It was obvious just by looking at her that she had not a strong constitution and even strong men wither under the cold of the North. "I know what's best for my daughter, Lord Stark. She needs to see that this is what happens to criminals and those that break the law." Stannis rocked back and forth on his heels and ground shook the cold from his body. "Shireen is my heir and will learn how things are done. Did your father, Lord Eddard, not do the same for you?"

He did and though Jon was no older than Shireen before he saw his first beheading, it felt different to him.  _Men with no heads don't scream in pain and smell of burnt flesh._ "He did, your Grace." King Stannis licked his chapped lips and nodded several times to himself. _  
_

"Your wildlings have clashed several times with Lord Umber's men." King Stannis murmured and then fixed his steely gaze on Jon, demanding an answer. "I was under the impression you would keep them under control."

The truth in Jon's mind was that he had simply assumed that for himself and presumed that the so-called Wildling Princess marrying a Stark would bring the whole of the Free Folk into his fold and Kingdoms. "My wife has been doing her best to keep them away from eachothers' throats." It had resulted in mixed feelings for Jon, how much she still did and threw herself into danger. Though she was still not showing in the slightest, he could not help but fear for her and their child.

That answer had not satisfied Stannis in the least and he let Jon know it. "I asked for you to bring the Wildings and Northmen together, not your spouse ... Lord Stark. And not for your best either. Be sure they don't spill each others' blood before we march on White Harbor and I'll consider your task fulfilled for now." He rubbed his thickly gloved hands together in frustration and impatience. "You know why they hate each other so, don't you Lord Stark?"

Jon nodded and retold the story he had heard once when he was a small child. "The Umbers have a long past of losing girls to wildling raids, your Grace. Mors Umber himself lost his last child many years ago."

King Stannis looked over the still heavily conversing crowd and spotted Mors Umber at the same time Jon did. "And does he know who committed the act? If so then I'll personally ensure justice is done this very day."

He again asked for the impossible and again did not realize it. "I don't believe so, your Grace." As Jon said so King Stannis ground his jaw and turned away from him to begin pacing back and forth in an attempt to stave off the cold winds.

"Bastard!" Screamed several men in the parting crowd and at that instant Jon knew that it was finally time. "Murderer!" Roared a few more and then the avalanche of insults and curses truly began in full swing. "Prepare to face your Gods and answer for your crimes, you sodding cunt!" Screamed a King's man and it was then that Jon could see the monster who had tormented Theon and Jeyne both.

Ramsay Snow was an ugly man in all senses of the word. He was overly lanky with sloped shoulders that warned of a wormy nature, his skin was just as pink and hairless as his father's. From all the signs on his face he loved every moment of the baratment he was receiving and for every insult he suffered he threw two back with an ugly smirk. It pained Jon in the most terrible ways to admit that in truth he was relieved that it was Jeyne Poole and not Arya or even Sansa who had suffered at this man's hands, or hand now, thanks to the unsung hero who had removed it from him during battle. He was in truth all that his reputation painted him as, impossible as it should be.

"There's my wife, keeping warm at night without me?" Ramsay taunted Jeyne as he passed by her in the crowd. After a loud growl and barring of his fangs Jon was sure that Ghost would have ripped his throat out if not for Val's tight grip of him. "You and the wildling whore are here ... but now where is my Reek? I want to see my Reek, or does he need more lessons to remember his place!" Ramsay called out for with all his breath and somehow forced his voice out over the entire assembled crowd of men who would have liked nothing more than to kill him themselves. His incessant calling of Jeyne had already reduced the poor girl to tears and nearly caused her to faint in fright and was angering Val more and more as the moments went by.

"Enough of your vileness." Godry Farring ordered before delivering a hard backhand across Ramsay's face which nearly knocked the bastard off his feet.

The pale skinned monster of house Bolton spit a mouthful of blood at Godry Farring and then laughed aloud. "Oh, how I would have loved to play with you Giantslayer. We could've seen just how strong you really are without the skin of your face." Another King's man moved forward and levelred Ramsay Snow to his knees with a blackjack to the back of his head. "A man has a right to say his peace before his death." With a wave of Stannis' hand they lifted Ramsay back to his feet and urged him closer to the pyre. Sadly he dug his heels in and stopped dead before Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen. "Well hello, your Kingship. I've heard you were as ugly as sin, but nothing could quite prepare me for this. And you're wearing a dress as well." He said with a dark snicker.

Another punch came from Godry Farring which then met with Ramsay's nose and smashed it in. "You'll show respect to your Queen, bastard, or so help you I'll break every bone in your damned body." It felt strange to Jon that for once he and the Giantslayer were of the same mindset in anything.

With a bloody lipped smile Ramsay turned back to the Queen and bowed his head in a mocking fashion. "Forgive me, my lady. But with the ... well hair you can understand why I was confused." Unfortunately he then looked down at her side and at the sad little heir of the Baratheons. "And you must be the Princess. Ugly little thing aren't you, and look at those ears." Shireen's eyes then shut tight and she put herself behind her mother for comfort from the monstrous man and Jon himself moved towards him in the mindset of ending the prolonged torture of words.

"Silence yourself and leave her be." Jon could no longer hold his composure and was far past the amount of bile he could stomach from the monster who called himself a man.

The bastard of house Bolton gave Jon little more than a passing glance and stated. "I have a right to say what I want, bastard." Ramsay looked back down at Shireen and chuckled through a bloody mouth. "Yes, I do say you may be the ugliest little thing I've ever seen. I don't know if I could stomach feeding you to my hounds without thinking they deserve better. Though you would make a fearsome cloak after I flayed you I suppose. I don't quite know if a Baratheon skin has ever been taken in my family's history." His two dirty eyes of ice flickered over to Jon and he added with a repugnant smirk. "We do however have many Stark skins. I know for certain that you yourself would make a fine cloak for me in this cold."

"Lord Stark has warned you once and now I'm warning you, bastard. You'll show due respect to my family or I'll have you gagged." Stannis said with real anger lingering behind his emotionless and withered face. "You have a right to say your final words but not to threaten anyone, and know I have the right to strip you of the that if I so please."

"I'm no bastard, Ramsay Bolton is my name. Trueborn son to Roose Bolton and his heir which means I'm the rightful Lord of the Dreadfort, this castle, and the whole of the North." Ramsay on his own accord moved from the Princess and Queen and towards his doom. "Ever since my father killed your brother Robb that is." Another round of angry voices broke out and made Jon fear the real possibility of riot if the bastard of Bolton kept on goading the Northmen. "What are you all so angry about? I'll be dead before the eve gives out and those cunt Freys are the ones who you really should be blaming." Ramsay chuckled darkly again as he climbed the stairs and as he made his way to the peak he exclaimed. "I wasn't even there, though I rather wish I was from how my father explained it." The bastard's dirty eyes of ice then locked with Jon's own dark grey. "Especially the way my father's blade sliced through your brother's heart. And the way he cried-" Without a second though Jon swung his sheath sword at the monster in human skin and smashed him in the temple with such force it knocked Ramsay off his feet and onto his back.

Before Jon could act again Ser Brun Buckler forced his way in between them and nearly lifted Jon off his feet. He however was not strong or big enough and Jon slipped under his arm and landed with all his weight on Ramsay's stomach and felt the air leave the bastard's body. Jon heard a loud cheer ring out from the Northern onlookers as he smashed his fist against Ramsay's mouth and felt several teeth loosen. As he raised his hand again for another shot his arm was caught by a much stronger man in Godry Farring who with little effort tossed Jon away. Before he could regain his balance and move back towards Ramsay, the ever faithful Black Donnel flung himself in Jon's way and held him back.

"Calm yourself, Lord Stark." Stannis commanded and with a heavy hand on Jon's shoulder he stated himself twofold. "Now gag him. He's had his chance for begging forgiveness and he's now squandered that." On the King's command Ser Patrek lifted a bloody mouthed Ramsay back to his feet, who was now missing a front tooth. With another cackle of laughter Ramsay opened his jaw just wide enough for Ser Godry to shove a lump of dirty rags in his mouth, and before he could spit them out another rag was tied twice over around his lips to keep his silence assured. Without further wait they moved him over to the stake and tied his hands above his head. "Ramsay Snow, I King Stannis of the house Baratheon, the first of my name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby sentence you to death by fire for your many crimes against the houses of the North. Do you have any last words?" Jon did not know if Stannis was attempting some sort of jape, if he was even capable of making one or if the traditional wording was so ingrained in his being that he could not phrase it differently if he so wanted to. Ramsay as expected by Jon was frantically mumbling something behind the gags, but what he said not Jon or anyone else knew. "Then let justice be done and may your Gods judge you just as I have." With that Stannis turned on his heels and climbed down the steps from the pyre with his loyal knights closely behind him.

It took every ounce of willpower in Jon's soul not strike Ramsay again, but with some assistance from Black Donnel he turned away from the pyre and down the steps to a safe viewing distance. Finding himself to his wife and direwolves side he felt her hand seek out his and squeeze reassuringly. From the surrounding walls around them Jon could see roughly two hundred more people had come to watch the bastard of Bolton burn. Which left only Ramsay and Melisandre high above all the nonbelievers and the fanatics who eagerly awaited her coming words. "Hear us now, my Lord." The silence in the courtyard was now chilling, even more so than the freezing wind. Yet somehow the Red Priestess wore no gloves, no furs, only a thin silken gown of red and even when a biting gust of cold blew through the open yard she would never flinch. "For you, we offer this man. So that you may cleanse him and his sins with your fire and lead our way with its light." Jon felt the heavy body of Ghost pressing against his thigh and soon after his whining. "Lord of Light lead us from the darkness and show us the way." With a flick of her fingers the first spark came from her outstretched hand and alit the pyre and Ramsay Snow both, what magic she was commanding Jon did not know and from the shocked gasps of Val, the Northmen, and the Free Folk they did not either. After a collection of gargled screams of pain, fear, or amusement from the bastard, Melisandre turned from the flames and began walking down the steps of the pyre. "Lord of Light protect us. For the night is dark and full of terrors." She finished with obvious flare and devotion to her beliefs.

"It's not right, this is no justice. They're just simply sacrificing him for their red god." Complained Donnel to Jon in a whisper as the strength in his eyes threatened to break from the smell and sound of Ramsay burning alive.

"What does it matter?" Val exclaimed aloud from Jon's otherside. "He deserves all the pain he's feeling, he's no human or beast. A monster hiding in the skin of a man is all he is, and it's our duty to the Gods to remove his taint from the world." Peeling his eyes off from the grotesque sight of the bastard of Bolton's face melting to the far more comforting sight of his wife's face he saw her arm over Jeyne's dark head of hair while the girl herself sobbed into Val's bosom. Again hearing Ramsay's continued muffled screams, Jon found it quite thankful that Stannis had gagged Ramsay for Jeyne's sake as he was sure it would have been far too much to hear him clearly. In full honesty that he would never admit out loud he did not know if he could have stomached hearing a man burn and scream in pain as the smell itself was far more than he comfortably could stomach.

It was an uncomfortable period of silence in the courtyard shared with all those who watched the immolation of the last living Bolton. Only after he had stopped screaming and when his body stopped moving did the silence end. "Is he dead?" Jeyne asked quietly.

In response Val brushed a loose strand of hair back behind the poor girl's tiny ear, soothing her. "He is. And he can't hurt you any longer, no one will for as long as I'm here."

Jon jumped slightly in shock as Ghost again nipped at his fingers and whined. "He's dead, Ghost." Again the pale direwolf let out another low whine and pulled on the wrist of Jon's fur lined glove, trying to pull him away. "Enough, what's the matter with you?" The direwolf's red eyes met with Jon's briefly and he let out a loud howl that drew several stares from around them.

"Onto the next matter of business." King Stannis exclaimed loudly as he took his place in front of the assembled men and women all piled in courtyard. "Lady Maege Mormont, you had business that you wished to settle with the Lords of the North and myself. I'll hear you now if you so wish."

Pushing her way through the dense crowd was the short and stout matriarch of the Mormonts who was quite a distinct figure dressed in heavy leathers and chainmail. Every man not too dull as to be able to look passed her gender could tell that she was a formidable warrior and even if they were, then the spiked mace on her hip proved the point just as well. In her large bear hide covered fist was dirty rolled of piece of rough parchment with a seal Jon could not see. Looking around him it became quite apparent to Jon how out of place he looked amongst his own Northern brethren, most if not all wore some armor and it made Jon wince at how foolish he must have looked in a simple fur and leather jerkin. Even Donnel had a thin coat of chainmail pulled across his broad chest, though he always wore chainmail whether at supper or breakfast. 

"Your wife looks a little pale." Murmured a voice as sonorous as it was exotic. Turning to the owner of the voice Jon looked upon the heart shaped and truly beautiful face of the Red Priestess, though no spot on Val's own. "I've come to understand that women holding their first child often tire much more easily than they realize." Jon thought it unlikely that Val would blemish under a little cold wind knowing what she had been through, but Jeyne on the other hand had done remarkably well holding up as she had.

"I'm fine, thank you very much for your concern however." Val retorted with a look of insult. "Women who live beyond the Wall have been known to go into battle with full and round bellies, I'm sure I can handle the rest of this day without much trouble." His wife then released his hand and in it went to touch her barely showing belly where he knew his son was growing.

Not showing any emotions on her face other than concern, Melisandre looked from Val to Jeyne Poole. "You on the other hand look like you can hardly stand. I think it would be best if you return to your chambers." Melisandre's red eyes met with Jon's and he felt her heat traveling from her to him. "Don't you agree, Jon Stark?"

He did not relish the idea of overriding Val's word, but he did agree that there was no reason for the two of them to stay out in the cold. "You really should go, it will just be another boring day of court. Go and get warm and I'll come see you both when we're done."

His wife's grey eyes flickered in anger that Jon would not take her side, but only for a moment and after that she slightly nodded her head and gave Jon a sideways glare that warned him of his fate that night. "As you say, husband." Val's arm wrapped around Jeyne's slender body tighter and she turned her towards the Great Keep and she said with a small murmur. "Come, lets go get some warm tea. And you can teach me how to knit that lightning bolt." Looking passed Val's head and at the Great Keep he spotted even more men watching from the covered bridge leading to the armory. From childhood he remembered that at any of the windows one could see the entirety of the courtyard and Jon wagered that the men at them had saw every moment of the execution.

"That was very kind of you, Lady Melisandre." Jon murmured to the woman who in turn had looked at him quizzically in confusion. "Looking after my wife ... and Jeyne Poole like that." He clarified himself and then the Red Priestess smiled warmly at him and at Ghost who was still whining and barking at everything in sight.

"That is not necessary, I felt it only was right to get them out of cold. No reason for women in their condition to be in such danger." Her voice was quite charming and he was sure it was one of the many reasons she had swayed so many over to her God's side.

"All the same, it was kind of you." Jon squated down to Ghost's level and tried to pet his companion to calm him, but he was still shaking and whining at something. "Whats the matter?"

Maege Mormont had finally cleared her throat and unravelled the parchment before the assembled crowd. It was then that Jon could see his own houses seal still waxed onto the edge of the note. "Brothers and sisters of the North. Most of you know me well, and you know me to be an honest and fair woman. You all know I love my family and most of all I love the Starks, I would explain my families eternal debt to the them, but I know that we all have our own that we could share." A cheer of northern voices rang out in support of her words, but she quickly quashed it with a wave of her hand. "You all know I was one of King Robb's more fervent supporters and followers. I would have followed him into the very Lands of Beyond Winter if he commanded it and Gods protect her soul my eldest Dacey is still serving him even in death I know." A louder and more zealous chant of Robb's name rang out and Jon saw a single tear roll away from Maege's eye and Jon would have lied if he did not share her sentiment. "After word reached us of Theon Turncloak's betrayal and murder of Prince Bran and Rickon, we mourned for them and thirsted for vengeance. But most of all our King knew that he was in a very dangerous position at that time. His heir at that time being was his sister, Princess Sansa, who was forcibly married to a Lannister and he could not allow Winterfell to ever be claimed by our enemies."

Many of Stannis' supporters looked quite uncomfortable at the talk of Stark royalty, and Stannis himself had ground his teeth and squeezed his cloak in rage. "The King in the North!" Shouted several Northern men and a even louder cheer of support hung over the courtyard.

"For many days once I heard word of Lord Jon swearing fealty to King Stannis Baratheon did I contemplate our King Robb's last command to me. And with the advice of Lord Howland Reed and Lord Glover, I've decided that the Other's can take the consequences as I swore an oath, and Northerners do not break their oaths." A stinging feeling hit Jon in the gut and he would have lied if he did not feel her words were aimed at him. Her dark green eyes then darted down to the parchment in her hand and she read it for all to hear. "By decree of the King in the North, Robb Stark, here let it be known that his brother Jon Snow is formally legitimized as his heir in the unfortunate situation that he himself does not conceive an heir." Maege Mormont had then paused for ever the slightest second and looked over at King Stannis who stood not even ten paces away as she made her decree and read Robb's final will. "As one of the few trusted with delivering his final will, I on this day uphold my sworn oath and declare Jon Stark, the King in the North." A collective gasp rang throughout the courtyard at her words and Jon felt an immense pressure fall on him.

"What is the meaning of this, Lady Mormont? Do you intend this to be your act of treason? I am the only true King and Lord Eddard Stark himself declared it before his death." He was losing control of the crowd and immediately several fights broke out between the Kingsmen and Northmen.

"We will never serve a southern King ever again, it was King Robb's will!" A man scream on Jon's left and soon after a bushy bearded southerner had smashed the man across the face. leveling him and declaring him a traitor.

"Please control yourselves." Lady Maege asked the crowd with little panic or worry in her voice despite nearly a quarter of the crowd now either arguing or fighting. "It was not my intention to provoke you or trouble, however I swore an oath to my King and before that I made the same promise every lord of the North did. We would never let the yoke of the south touch us again, not until our dying breath would they ever shackle us once more."

Black Donnel drew his axe from his belt loop and dropped down before Jon and in the very worst act possible he said what Jon so feared. "All hail the King in the North." Dozens of Northers followed his lead and many Kingsmen took offence to that act and showed it with their fists and words. Still stunned from Maege's words, Jon felt his words catch in his throat before he could beg Donnel to stop. "From this day forward I once again swear my undying loyalty to you, but as my King."

"All of you calm yourself." King Stannis commanded them and Jon spotted Ser Godry doing his best to quell the tensions and stop the fighting in vain. "Jon Stark has already been legitimized and has sworn his oath to me, you yourselves owe me your-"

"Fuck you and your fucking Fire God, you cunt! I sod on all you southerners!" Roared a big bellied man from the Northern Clans. A pale haired Kingsman threw a punch at the man, but took a headbutt in return that rendered him unconscious which caused several more fights to break out around Jon.

"Enough, he's right. I swore an oath to him, I don't want to be King." Jon tried to explain, but not many listened and if they did they did not care what he thought and continued proclaiming him high and low for all to hear as King.

"I ordered you to silence yourselves, now-" It had looked as if King Stannis had flinched and when his voice failed to create words he twitched. "Impossible." Stannis murmured wetly just as he reached down at the arrow sticking through his chest.

"Traitors! Kingslayers!" Roared Ser Godry and with a long strike he beheaded a young copper headed boy and then the entire courtyard descended into madness and chaos. A bucket helmed man with halberd raised it towards Jon and before he could react Black Donnel had disemboweled the man with his axe. Godry Farring ran to Stannis and did his very best to stifle the man's blood loss. Jon himself lost sight of the Queen and her daughter both in the chaos of the fighting.

"We need to get back to the keep." Black Donnel screamed to him as he ripped his axe from a leather cap wearing man's neck. "I don't know who's on my side and who's not." A man far to Donnel's left was then felled by a crossbolt that caught him squarely in the eye and it pained Jon to admit that his friend was right and that they could not stay and calm the already lost situation.

Drawing Longclaw from its sheath he pushed Donnel from his way and crossed blades with Ser Richard Horpe who charged at the Flint heir from behind. "This is all a mistake," Richard's blade was caught by Longclaws crossguard and the older man struggled to free himself. He ignored Jon's pleading and kept fighting to free his blade as Jon again begged him. "We can still save him,"

Ser Horpe kicked Jon in the knee and wrenched his blade free from Longclaw. "Bloody traitor, I should have let Godry kill you." The man held his sword high over his head and swung it down hard enough to easily split Jon's head had it connected. Jon did not trust his own strength against the bigger man though and dodged and parried his strikes waiting for an opening. Looking over his opponent's shoulder, he saw Arston Hare open up the still unarmed and kneeling Ser Clayton Suggs' throat with a hunting dagger and his very red blood was rolling down his chest. Seeing Jon's attention drawn and an opportunity to strike, Ser Richard pulled his sword back and attempt to skewer him with it. Acting on instincts alone he slapped the blade away and drove Longclaw through the man's belly and saw the bloody end of his blade sticking out of the man's back and heard his final death cry.

Looking back over at King Stannis he saw the man he swore his life to, now unmoving on the ground bleeding out like that of a stag. Near him was Godry Farring who was now standing over the dead Lady Maege Mormont whose throat had been slashed away. On her hip untouched was her spiked mace. "Godry!" Jon screamed out to the man and in response the cruel Knight turned to him with a look of pure rage.

"Come to finally meet your death, bastard. You'll be joining your traitor brother soon, I swear to you." The always boastful Giantslayer stepped towards Jon with his sword at the ready. Before Jon could move to engage him however, Donnel Flint with a loud howl of rage charged at Godry with axe raised over his head in vengeance for his coming mother by law. The Flint was in such a bloody rage that he threw all his caution and good thinking to the wind and failed to notice that Godry's sword had much greater reach than his axe could ever boast of.

"Leave him be!" Jon screamed just as Ser Godry had slashed Donnel across the face and dropped the younger man down into icy packed dirt. A long and bloody slash ran along Donnel's ear to his upper lip, but he was moving and growling still albeit in great pain which told Jon that it would not be the end his friend. The Giantslayer's first strike passed over Jon's head and he then deflected Jon's own stab with the guard of his ugly sword.

"Soon they'll call me Kingslayer, the bastard Kingslayer at that." Godry taunted and then slammed Jon under the chin with an uppercut and stumbled him back a few feet. Before Jon could regain his balance he tripped and fell over the corpse of Ser Horpe who even in death supported his brother in arms. Godry tried to follow up his advantage and finish him, but Donnel's axe had flown through the air and removed the zealot Knight's ear. The Giantslayer then moaned in pain as blood shot out from his head in a thin stream. "Lord of Light take all you Northern cunts!" Godry screamed out in a red rage as he tried to stifle the blood pouring from his earhole. A great and large flash of white fur charged passed Jon and within moments Godry's throat was being torn out by Ghost.

Pulling himself back to his feet Jon tried to move to Ghost's side, but his legs were no longer obeying him. Looking over at his maimed friend Donnel, he watched his blue eyes go wide. "What is it?" Jon said barely above a whisper that confused him greatly as to why his voice would fail him. Looking down at his stomach he saw an arrow head just poking through his leather jerkin and then another smack echoed off his back. Turning around to face the sound or opponent head on he saw a fresh faced boy who had not a hair on his cheeks and in his hand was a bloody dagger, but in his eyes was a wild look of shock and fear. _He's Stannis' squire._ Jon remembered just as the boy stuck him again with the dagger right above his navel. Jon's strength had then nearly all left him and he did not know how long ago it had been when he had dropped Longclaw, but when his legs gave out he felt it under his thigh.  _Devan is his name, Devan Seaworth._ Jon realized he must have been the same age as Arya if not slightly older.  _After all of this, I failed to save them._ He hoped that his father would not curse him for his actions, they were done for the sake of family after all. Could a man be cursed for forsaking his honor for his family?  _Kill the boy and let the man be born, Jon Snow._ It was such seemingly simple advice, but it was deceptive in its complexity. Devan Seaworth reached down for the blade and ripped it from Jon's fresh new wound. In truth he could tell that the squire was quite shocked that he had not killed him yet. _Probably never killed a man before, never realized how much harder it is when they look you in the eye as you do it_. Though Jon was in shock as well he knew and he also knew he was uncomfortable and felt like his leather jerkin was soaked with hot red blood, so very hot that it felt it was scalding him.

Devan Seaworth then raised the bloody dagger high over his head as if it was some great battle axe. His eyes did go wide soon after when two huge and meaty hands wrapped around his jaw and his eyes changed to a dull and lifeless form of themselves when the fists nearly twisted his head off his shoulders. Dwarfing the once very alive, confused, and panicking boy of a squire was a man Jon could only describe as being half a giant. "Lord Umber." Jon murmured through dry and parched lips as the Greatjon leaned over and tossed him over his shoulder like a hunter would a deer or a father would his wounded kin. The ground below them was so bloody and red, and so very red that Jon felt as if the very fires of the seven hells that Sansa and Arya's Septa warned them off was coming for him. However in that sea of red following closely behind the Greatjon's huge feet was his pale direwolf who with exception of his bloody snout was just as clean and white as the trunk of Winterfell's weirwood. He did not know if the fighting had stopped for all he could see was Ghost and all he could hear was the Greatjon's heavy breathing and for him he unfortunately knew that both senses were quickly failing him. It was panic inducing how quickly the blackness of the world could swallow up the light whiteness of his vision and of how Ghost did not even seem to notice the danger that encroached them all. "Ghost, to me." Jon murmured and like he knew they would end, his direwolf picked his head up and nipped at Jon's fingers until the darkness overtook him.

And then the light of the world returned, only this time he was not looking at his Ghost, but at the lifeless and bloody body of a dark haired man who foolishly wore only a light leather jerkin in this very bitter and cold world. Looking up at the arrow still lodged in the man's left shoulder he wondered how the man could have been so foolish and ignored all of the signs. If he had not felt such overwhelming sadness he would have told the dying man the same thing his first love once had. _You know nothing, Jon Snow._   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I finished, WOOHOO. Hope you all enjoyed reading it.
> 
> Any questions or w.e. you know where to voice them.


	58. The Love of Wolves

Rickon:

 

"Come now, eat up." Rickon goaded his mount with a fat carrot he had swiped from the kitchens. Osha had warned him about keeping such a majestic creature as Snowmane tied down and that he needed to let him roam free, but he could not trust the hunters in the area to spare his friend should he roam the lands. For all his strength and size he was no Shaggy and could not be trusted to keep himself safe in the south by his lonesome. "You need to eat something." As he put the carrot up to his mount's nose the boy frowned as the horned horse turned his nose to it and reared up on his hind legs.

The new stable master Corlys Stone walked up from behind Rickon and in his hand was a ripe red apple. "I've tried everything, M'lord. But he just won't eat." The man's eyes had lit up the very moment he spotted Snowmane weeks ago and without any fear for his own life and safety he had charged in full stride at the horned beast and examined every part of him. Rickon did not particularly like the man which seemed a shared feeling by many other men, but the man's love for steeds of all sizes and breeds was unquestionable. It was not that he was an unkind man, he was just an odd bird as Nuncle had called him. At times Corlys displayed an unnerving and annoying habit of talking to himself and to the horses he cared for which on it's own would not be too off he felt, but the man also would take to answering his owns question as if he spoke for the animals and would change his pitch to his imagined understanding of them.

"You be careful around that one, soft headed he is. Don't spend long around him unless Arya or myself are nearby, is that understood?" His great uncle Brynden had told him. And like the good and obedient nature Arya had taught him to use to fool their uncle he agreed on the spot. To the gray haired man's credit he did not drop his guard for a time after that and kept eyeing him suspiciously the rest of that night. Thankfully for both Arya and Rickon their Nuncle had daylong work to do nearly all the time now and until Sansa arrived from Riverrun they would have the days to themselves. 

Though in truth he was not lying, he did not go and seek the man out for talks. It was just an unfortunate fact that the man was the new stable master and he had his Snowmane to look after so occasional meetings were unavoidable he planned to argue if caught. He was following his Nuncle's rule the current time though as Arya was currently sitting in the far corner of the stable and was perched on a low wall in a seemingly precarious stance, but he knew that she had no chance of falling with her superior balance which was akin to that of a cat's. In her left hand she was flipping her valyrian steel dagger back and forth from the palm of her hand and to her knuckles over and over in either annoyance or boredom. She had bragged to him several times in the last few days when he questioned her about it that the blade could cut through the toughest of leathers and he would have lied if he did not want it for his next hunting trip. Under her feet was her golden eyed and gray furred companion Nymeria whose head was drooped over two large paws as she simply waited for Arya's next movement.

Rickon knew his Shaggy was in the godswood of King's Landing as he could smell its cedar trees and he could taste the blood of a rat he had killed. It was not a pleasant taste at all and he tried his best to force it away as he again goaded his Snowmane. "Its nice and ripe. You couldn't find anything this good on Skagos." His mount ignored his pleading and shook his head in annoyance. That however was not good enough for Rickon and he knew what he needed to do although Osha would have been cross with him. With great care he leaned against the stable wall and shut his eyes in hard concentration. It was not at all as easy as Rickon had made it out to be, willing creatures like Shaggydog were simple and easy to reach out to, but those with closed minds that did not want to be put aside in their own heads gave Rickon the greatest struggles and pained his head. He could feel hundreds of minds nearby, most were of horses and several belonged to stable hands who were much harder if not impossible for him to look into ... so much so that Rickon did not even try. Then he came to Corlys Stone who had little more resistant than the horses that he looked after and nearby was Arya who without even prodding he could feel her resistance which dwarfed everyone else's nearby. Snowmane was only slightly more difficult than that of an average horse and even though he briefly fought and kicked in protest he gave up just like Rickon knew he would have to.

Blinking his eyes to get a feel for where he was he quickly rushed for the carrot still clutched in his real body's hand and chewed it down as quickly as possible and hardly tasted it. "Well look at that, he's eating. Just had a little aching and needed to kick the pain out." The stable master said with a hearty chuckle and then he put the apple in front of Snowmane's mouth. Rickon with all the finesse he could muster in this so unfamiliar body bit near half the apple off the core and part of the core itself too. With a quick flaring of his eyes towards his sister he spotted her staring adamantly at his real body and in the next moment her eyes met with Snowmane's and he knew that she knew what he was doing.

Leaving Snowmane's skin for his own he then involuntarily gasped and as it felt as if someone had punched all the air from his body. "Are you alright?" His sister asked him from across the stable with a raised eyebrow. After wiping a thin line of spittle from his lips he nodded his head and ran his fingers through Snowmane's coarse hair.

"You'll wash him today?" Rickon asked the stable master who enthusiastically nodded his head and in a vain attempt he tried to feed Snowmane the remainder of the apple.

His sister then kicked off her perch and over Nymeria to land in the soft hay covered stable without and made not a sound. "Are you done here?" She asked and he nodded his head. His elder sister mimicked his nod and stretched her back out while yawning. "Good, I hate this place. Always smells of horse shit." She said aloud without much care for who heard and Rickon could not control his own smile when he saw the shocked expression Corlys made when he heard her say so. He was sure that his Nuncle would have scolded her for speaking like that as in his words she needed to play part of a lady when in public.

"You hate this whole castle. And that doesn't smell like shit." Rickon said in a much quieter voice that ensured only she and Nymeria could hear him. The latter padded along behind them and in her wake was a loud whining and crying of many horses who saw their end in the direwolf.

"Don't remind me. It's full of awful people, it was the first time I was here and it still is now." He understood in some ways why she hated it so even he remembered that it was where his father had been murdered.

"But those people are all gone or dead. You said so yourself. Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Polliver, Chiswyck, Raff, the Tickler, the Hound, Amory Lorch, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Joffrey Baratheon, Queen Cersei, Weese, and Branton." He repeated her nightly chant back to her that she would say every night before bed.

Arya jabbed him the ribs lightly with the pommel of her dagger as they exited the stables and exclaimed. "I told you to never repeat that, and just for your information Ser Ilyn Payne is not dead ... yet."

"You are right in that, my Lady. He is rotting away in the darkness of the black cells as we speak." Boomed the heavy voice of Ser Balon Swann who Rickon had grown to enjoy in the past moon. He was dressed in what he had been told to be the traditional armor of the Kingsguard and had a heavy white cloak of wool clasped at both of his shoulders by the silver swans of his house.

His sister slipped her dagger back into the hem of her tunic between her breeches and bowed her head, almost mockingly so. "Lord Commander, that is why I said it." Rickon knew that she did not like many others that did not possess the Stark name, but it infuriated him at how she could act at times.

Ser Balon however did not take her bait and simply smiled down at her. "I presume both of you are free today?"

Rickon was, though he had not the faintest idea as to what Arya was planning for the rest of her day. Whenever he would practice his swordplay with their Nuncle she would disappear until supper and after that Nuncle and her would argue for a time about her responsibilities and keeping herself safe in this supposedly dangerous place. It was something not only Arya and Nuncle would tell him, but also Ser Balon and the Imp would warn him not to trust anyone in the Red Keep. Rickon though did not see what they were speaking about as while the incessant whispering and gossipping of seemingly everyone did get a tad annoying, they were at least always pleasant on the surface. If he kept himself reserved and quiet then nothing ever did go wrong he found.

"I have bird keeping lessons today." Arya said with a flat voice and neutral face that did not indicate any humor on her part. Rickon had heard of Lady Margaery Tyrell being an avid hawker from Alla Tyrell at supper in the great hall a few days past, but he could not imagine his sister having enough patience to train one.

Ser Balon Swann nodded his head as if expecting an answer of that kind. "That is unfortunate, my Lady. As there is no choice for you in this matter, and Lord Brynden has already assured your appearance." The man's warm brown eyes then travelled to Rickon and he spoke directly to him. "And I'm here to escort you."

"Why? Shouldn't you be protecting the King?" Rickon asked as since the battle King Aegon had taken a leave of court and of leadership. Everyone said that he had been badly injured in the battle and since all who had seen him would say nothing upon the fear of death, not much was truly known. All Rickon knew for certain was that until last week only incessant crying and wailing of pain could be heard from outside of the inner castle and the gates to that had been firmly shut to everyone unless you were the Imp, Archmaester Marwyn, Nuncle Brynden, or the fat man that Edric had called in a whisper the Spider. Early morning rumors since that time had said that King Aegon finally had finally been spared of his pain by the Seven and died, but Rickon knew that he was not dead as he would have felt it. And for that matter they would not have lied about him still drawing breath if he had died. Even Arya said he was still alive and she seemed to know the truth of everything going on in the castle and he knew for certain she would not lie to him.

The big man smirked. "When the King gives me an order it's my duty to obey him. And I've been ordered to come and retrieve the both of you."

"Really?" It made Rickon giddy to think that he would finally be able to give him the answer to his question and to tell him that he had done what was asked of him.

Arya was far less impressed with the news and with a click of her tongue even Ser Balon knew it. "Fine, lead on, Lord Commander." With only a small flicker of irritation evident within his eyes the broad shouldered Balon turned and his heavy white cloak nearly hit Rickon in the face but he barely dodged it and Arya almost broke her own foul mood with a snicker when spotting it. As they followed him back into the castle and passed through the cold halls, all manner of servants and nobility of some type cleared from their path and murmured to themselves in fear of Nymeria who still followed closely behind but she hardly gave any of them a second look.

Without looking back Ser Balon murmured to them over his shoulder. "I heard that Red Ronnet's bastard stumbled over a marriage proposal to you yestermorn."

That seemed to darken his sister's mood even farther and it was true. Rickon had been there himself and after she had told the pale faced boy in none so kind words 'no', he apologized and excused himself to go lock himself within his father's quarters. Edric had whispered to Rickon later that night at supper that Lord Connington had beaten him half silly for embarrassing the family and for trying to pull something of that nature. "He's lucky I didn't bloody his nose." Arya said under her breath just loud enough for Ser Balon to hear.

After letting out a hearty round of laughter Ser Balon responded back. "Aye, and how dare he encroach on his liege lord's hopeful betrothed, eh?" Rickon could tell he was trying rile her up now and while he knew it was all in good fun from Balon his sister would not take to it so kindly. She was currently flanking the man too which would make it quite an unwise move on his part. Rickon did not even know if he would be able to move fast enough to stop her if he tried. "How many proposals is that now anyhow, Rickon? There was that frog faced lad from house Varner, then there was little Lord Lucos Chyttering," Rickon remembered him well as he came to pledge fealty to King Aegon's crown and laid his father's tapestry at the Imp's feet in the throne room as a sign of goodwill. "I remember knocking him into the dirt on his first tourney at Massey's Hook. And last week the Knight of Ninestars' heir tried his own luck I believe. Now he was good looking boy, strong jawline, nice blue eyes, and nothing in between those ears. Perfect husband for a smart girl like yourself."

"Sounds as if you were describing Harrold." Arya exhaled and Rickon had to admit that she was not wrong and even Ser Balon himself nodded his head along with that thought. "And do you have a point, Ser?"

"Just passing the time with some light chatter and gossip, my Lady. You're always taking yourself so damn serious and causing your uncle many headaches, so I simply wanted to see how long I could hold against it I suppose." Nuncle Brynden and Ser Balon had taken to sharing cups with each other at night and he knew that well as he had been woken up by their talks once before already. Ser Balon then turned left down a long and familiar hallway. Rickon looked through a set of open doors and saw the imposing but frankly ugly and infamous Iron Throne. The throne room itself was mostly empty as court would not start for several more hours now and only a handful of servants occupied it to scrub the floors and do whatever duties they had. The hole in the ceiling of the room had still not been patched yet and he wondered how long they would take to repair it as it had been broken since the siege of the city and that was more than a month ago. When he asked her how it happened Arya had told him that an errant rock from a trebuchet had punctured the castle and just nearly missed the throne itself.

"Lady Arya." Called out another voice that Rickon had long gotten used to. Lady Brienne, or just Brienne as she had begged Rickon to call her. "You need not worry yourself with titles." She told him after exactly twenty seven times where she flinched uncomfortably when he had called her a lady. It always came quite strange to him as to why both his sister and his sworn sword hated to be called ladies, after all it was what they were. "Lord Rickon." She had added upon seeing him when both his sister and he turned to face her. Brienne had already positioned herself on one knee and Rickon wagered she had done it long before she even called out to Arya. "Lord Commander, may I ask where you are taking them?"

Ser Balon hesitated for a brief moment as if he was sizing Brienne up as prey just like Rickon would a deer. She was not dressed in armor like Ser Balon was, she simply wore an oversized doublet and pair of dark brown breeches that were tucked into her boots and on her hip was a long bastard sword with a star shaped pommel. "Lady Brienne, how good of you to finally break your vigil of the Kingslayer. I was worried we'd never see you once more and thought you'd be escorting his body back to Casterly Rock." Rickon was confused as to what Ser Balon was trying to say as he knew Ser Jaime 'the Kingslayer' Lannister had been taken from the city nine days ago and was already on his way back to his home in the west.

Rickon remembered how happy the Kingslayer looked in death as he laid on the cold slab of granite in the Sept of Baelor. It was only a handful people who had been there to see him, namely Nuncle Brynden, the Imp, and Lady Brienne who had taken over his vigil. When Rickon asked why the Sept was so empty his Nuncle had whispered to him carefully as to not let either the Imp or Brienne hear him. "No one dares insult the King or draw his ire by showing any lingering affection for his enemies. Even if he's the Hand's brother. Remember that all actions have consequences Rickon, and then think about how others will react to them before acting yourself." The Imp had shed many tears on that day and his Nuncle had said few words and left with Rickon soon after murmuring that justice had finally been done.

"I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn to look after and protect her children. I will fulfill that oath until my dying breath or until I'm released of it." She had found and taken much of the venom within Ser Balon's words in stride and would not budge or back down from him.

The Commander of the Kingsguard with a small and knowing smirk said. "Let's hope that you were born with a much greater sense of duty than that damned oathbreaker Ser Jaime. I'd loathe to see an oathbreaker made out of Gal's sister." Her eyes peaked for a quick moment before she hid them with a defiant look that seemed to always rule her scarred face. "If you must know I am escorting them to the King. Lord Brynden has already given his permission."

"Then I will help you escort them as well." Brienne replied firmly.

His sister spoke at her then. "That will not necessary, we can get there ourselves I'm confident." Rickon knew that his sister had quite the changing opinion of Brienne. Despite their shared quirks his sister seemed to never have the time nor patience to converse with Brienne which he did not find fair as it was apparent that she was just trying to be kind.

"I was tasked by your mother to protect you and-"

Arya's gray eyes flickered in anger and Rickon not only feared for Brienne but also for himself. "Which you were doing by mourning Jaime Lannister? I don't need to protected by anyone, especially not by a friend of the man who wounded my father. And whose family is the reason my brother and mother are dead ... so go and take your false oaths to someone else." Turning her back to the woman Arya moved passed Ser Balon and walked on her own.

"Arya, please." Brienne begged but her words fell on silent ears as his sister would not be deterred today or ever when she was like this. Even Nuncle knew that it was useless to talk to her after she made up her mind and dug in her heels just like a rabbit would if it managed to flee back to it's hole. "I'm not trying to be a bother, I simply mean to keep you all safe." Brienne exclaimed as she hung her head and Rickon felt as if her sad but pretty blue eyes would start to tear then.

"I'm sorry," Rickon exclaimed and turned on his own heels after his sister. He wished he could have told her that it was no bother to him, but he could not and would not betray his sister like that.  _The pack stays together or they die alone._

After Rickon was sure that they had gotten far enough away from Brienne he looked back and saw Ser Balon calmly following after them with a look of deep thought. He followed his sister out of the Red Keep noticed that the drawbridge to Maegor's Holdfast had been dropped. As they passed over the sturdy and wooden platform he tried to extinguish his baffling anxiety, or mayhaps it was fear when looking down at the slick and ice covered spikes and of the snow filled moat. It brought to mind the conversation Edric and he shared in the squire yard a week earlier.

"He strangled his sister to death and then ravaged their youngest child until he had no skin remaining on his bones. And after that the Kingslayer took his twin into his arms and tossed took her with him as he threw himself onto the moat in his grief for their sins." Edric whispered to Rickon while they waited for Nuncle Brynden to appear for their lessons.

"That's not true, my sister told me that Tommen was poisoned." Rickon had said back to the big eared boy who never failed to provoke some argument between them.

Dickon Tarly ducked a wild swing from Bannen Bar Emmon and in response threw back a hard punch that flipped the mud haired boy in the air and dazed when he hit the ground. "Ed, is right. My father told me that was why they're not holding an open vigil. The High Septon thought that no soul should ever see an innocent child in such a deplorable form."

Bannen lifted his head off the ground and cried out in pain. "Sod on you Dickon, you broke my nose again. You promised me you'd fight fair this time."

"I apologize Bandy, when I get in my warrior mindset you know how I forget myself." At Rickon's count that was nearly the fourth time that Dickon had used something other than his sword to win, but in truth it was Bannen's fault for falling for the same trick that many times to begin with.

"I've seen Lady Myrcella crying in the gardens all week about it. Then usually the Hand sees me watching and has me kicked out." Edric said just before Nuncle Brynden had shown with their training swords.

Before they all went through the heavy iron doors of Maegor's Holdfast his sister stopped dead in her tracks and Rickon nearly ran into her. "Take my hand." She demanded and he hesitated for a simple moment before she pounced on that weakness and seized his hand by force.

Ser Balon walked passed the both of them and stopped dead before the doorway and turned to back to them with a small smirk that made Rickon blush in embarrassment. "While that sentiment is sweet, you're not walking into a battlefield. You have nothing to fear here all of all places." Trodding around the man and into the castle was Nymeria and Ser Balon had shown fear for only a moment that time which told Rickon the man was beginning to get used to seeing wolves of that size.

His sister ignored the man's prodding and teasing which Rickon was thankful for and as she led him into the castle inside of the castle he studied the many tapestries that hung on the walls. Dragons were crossed with stag horns, there was a dragon that flew over a single high tower, a dragon winged horse, and finally a red dragon which was silhouetted by an orange sun. "That would be best, but-" As they climbed the staircase he could hear the deep voice of Lord Bronze Royce and as they got closer the noise had quieted. In a semi circle surrounding a black iron and red wooded door was an assortment of people that Rickon did not usually see in one place. Nuncle Brynden had his familiar warm smile about his wrinkled face and was dressed in a plain blue woolen doublet that was pulled over a elbow sleeved tunic of white. The Hand of the King was dressed mournfully in black and gold and had a much too large bear cloak on his shoulders that reached down to the floor and dusted it as he moved too Rickon did not doubt. Opposite of the half-man was the always sour faced Lord Randyll Tarly who dressed the most plainly of them all with only a thick black tunic and jerkin of boiled leather, but poking over his right shoulder was his house's ancestral sword Heartsbane which his son desired greatly. The pretty and willow Lady Nymeria Sand was closest to the door and was the only one who he struggled to look in the face which blushing. She wore a thin dress of purple silk and bit of lace that barely covered her completely let alone kept her warm in the cold and on her hip was a rolled up whip with an ornate dagger not far behind it.

"Lady Stark, Lord Stark. It is so good to see both of you in such good health." Announced the strange and fat man called the Spider. If Bannen's gossipping was true he was also a eunuch too, what that meant Rickon did not know. The Stark boy had to say that he was dressed the strangest of them all and wore a colorful and eye catching robe of bright red and green silk. If he had not been so slight and soft looking he would have been worried to be near the man as not only did he make no sounds when he moved, but he wore the most nauseating scent that covered whatever natural smell he had.

Before he could answer the man his sister pulled him behind her and answered for the both of them. "We are both fine, now I was told we were to be brought to King Aegon. So where is he?"

When she had said his name a gasp ran throughout the men but not the woman. "What a little fireball she is, oh how she would get along with Obara." Exclaimed Lady Nymeria with a smirk that made Rickon avert his eyes from her. Lord Randyll Tarly however did not share that sentiment in the least and did little to nothing to hide his disdain of her free speaking ways.

"Best watch that mouth, Lady Stark. While it's enjoyable for us to hear it won't win you any friends in the long run I fear." Advised Lord Royce with a loud chuckle and sadly he was not wearing his magical armor but just a simple and boring outfit of wool and leather.

Nuncle Bryden broke off from the other's and placed his hand warningly on Arya's shoulder and Rickon knew that they would be having more words and arguments that night. "Please forgive my niece, we are still working on her manners."

The silver haired man that Rickon had mistaken for Aegon several days ago spoke out from behind Lord Royce. "Be careful where that tongue gets you, his Grace has a shortage of patience today." It had shocked Rickon quite thoroughly when he had passed by the man in the halls of the Red Keep and after calling out to him the man had only a slightly annoyed but then amused look on his face. "I'm no King, boy. Look at my eyes before causing a ruckus again for nothing." He then grabbed both the upper and lower lids of his eye and pulled them wide to make sure Rickon saw his sea green eyes before letting him go on his way. "Aurane Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, Master of ships, and the rightful Lord of Driftmark. Remember my name well." He spoke many words and never seemed liable to stop bragging just like Edric, only unlike Edric he did stop bragging after Rickon had told him his own name.

"Nice to see that your wolf could in fact fit through these halls, Lady Stark. Sadly however it will have to stay outside with us." The Imp exclaimed with some humor hidden behind his voice. He waved the crowd away from his path and from the door. "Mayhaps I could teach little Rickon here about the nine wonders made by men while we wait."

"What? I thought we were both summoned to see the King?" It was not fair. Why he could not see the King, but his sister could? She did not even want to in the first place.

Ser Balon ruffled Rickon's shaggy head and tried to quell him as he explained. "That would be my fault my Lords and Lady. I did not know if she would have come willingly if not for Rickon's sake."

The doors to the King's chambers then opened and sliding through them was Archmaester Marwyn who had several empty crystal vials on an iron tray. "I don't truly see the harm in him being there as well. It would do him well to communicate with someone outside of us." The Archmaester said while he put his tray on the ground and after that he held the door open for them to pass him. "The King won't mind, so come on in both of you."

Arya had hesitated much more than Rickon had and he knew that it was in her nature to be suspicious, but she went too far at times. "What is this all about?" She asked anyone who would answer her.

"When a King calls on your presence it does not matter." Lady Nymeria responded back just before Archmaester Marwyn shut the doors. The old man then led the both of them into the white and extravagant room. Hanging from every wall was a banner of the King's house and lingering in the air was the strangest smell of what Rickon could only describe as being akin to that of a wet bird. The King's bed had sheer silken drapes that could be looked through with the assistance of the sunlight. In the bed itself however, laying on pure white sheets that looked just like the fresh snows of the North was the once silver haired King who weakly strummed at his lute.

"Egg, both Lady Arya and Rickon are here." The Archmaester announced as he pulled two heavy leather backed chairs to the side of the bed.

The Targaryen picked at another string from his lute and nodded. "I can see that and go get them some seats, they'll be here for some time I think." He then pulled himself higher up on his bed and rested his once silver haired head against the stone headboard.

Without anymore hesitation Rickon ran around the spiky black candles that dominated the center of the bedchamber and launched himself onto the King's bed and felt Aegon flinch when he wrapped himself under the man's arm. "I knew you weren't dead, everyone said you were and that's why no one has seen you." Rickon murmured into the man's almost scaldingly hot right arm which was bandaged from his fingertips to shoulder.

After grabbing a flagon of wine and one of water, the Archmaester replied back. "I already did so."

Aegon chuckled and with his free hand pinched Rickon's nose to stop him from smothering himself on him. "So you did." The Targaryen then placed his lute aside and pulled Rickon's head up to look at him. "Hello, Rickon. You know your uncle Brynden has been telling me of how well you've been doing in the training yards."

"So you are alive," Arya murmured as she took the farthest seat from the bed and accepted a goblet of water from the Archmaester. "I heard you're armor was melted to your skin during the battle. I see that was just an exaggeration."

"As one of the many men who had peeled it from his skin, I can attest that it was all true what you've heard." Archmaester Marwyn then grabbed Rickon from under the arms and lifted him from the bed and Aegon and into the second chair. "Sit in your seat like a man would, and not some mewling little boy." He ordered harshly and received a threatening look from both Starks for his efforts.

"They had to take my hair and most of the skin on my arm as a result." Aegon exclaimed and reached out for a goblet of water which Marwyn then placed in his hand. After taking a deep drink from it, he added. "I'm sure you could all hear me scream whenever I woke from my fever. I even unhinged my jaw several times in doing so." Everyone did Rickon knew, several times during one night he had been woken up by what he'd thought was death itself.  _Kill me. Please. End it._ _  
_

Archmaester Marwyn had put both flagons on the table beside the bed and crossed the room to the same wooden chest he had seen in Aegon's tent. After rummaging through it he had placed a stack of empty parchment on another table beside it and placed two full inkwells and a handful of quills near it. "Do any of you require anything else before I take my leave?" The stout man asked with a tentative look behind his brown eyes.

Both Arya and Aegon shook their heads and so the old man quickly left the room and shut the door behind himself. "Put it plainly, what do you want, your Grace?" His sister asked.

His arms trembled greatly as he threw the silk covers from his body and he nearly succeeded of falling over after trying to get to his feet. Requiring the aid of his bed to keep himself upright, he chuckled. "I need a favor from you." His knees then buckled and he barely stopped himself from falling on his face. "I apologize for my poor form, I haven't been able to leave my bed for some time on my own power. I'm sure you can imagine how weak one's legs can get without use."

Rickon tried to move from his chair to help Aegon back to his feet, but his sister seized his arm and held him back in his chair. "It's no bother to me. Now what is this ... favor you want of me."

The Dragon King banged his foot on the corner post of the bed and from his mouth came a strange language that sounded like liquid to Rickon. When he turned to them however he held a kind smile. "It is one I've struggled with asking, it is very improper as you know for an unmarried female and male to alone together so it is in truth good that your brother is here. I'd hate for malicious rumors of either of us to spread."

His sister clicked her tongue and relayed her own thoughts on the matter of rumors. "I don't care what others think of me."

"And you act as if I don't know this? I know that you may think I'm stupid, but I can assure you that I'm not. If I was then I would not be standing here today."

Arya nodded her head and added with a smirk of her own. "If you were smart mayhaps you wouldn't be maimed and unable to walk on your power."

It forced a chuckle from Rickon's mouth and it was one that Aegon shared. "I'm not maimed, my hair will return and I just need to remember how to walk is all. But back to my point, while you may not care about your reputation, you need to. Play sweet and kind for the masses and hate them underneath if it soothes you."

"Like you do?" Arya asked as Aegon pushed himself free of the bed and nearly fell back against a wall in search of his balance.

"Exactly." He murmured and he then used the wall to lead himself over to the desk that was prepared for him. "So are you open to hearing me out? It is a rare and valuable thing to have a King's favor."

His sister hesitated and before answering she dropped Rickon's hand and combed a loose hair from her face. "If this favor involves me marrying that arrogant twat, Edric-"

"It does not, I swear that to you." Aegon said over his shoulder after positioning himself in the chair before the heavy table. 

"Then in return I want you to put these talks of me marrying him to death." Rickon figured his sister would choose something like that and he could not say that it was a bad choice, either that or valyrian steel and she already had the latter.

The King turned around his chair and shook his head in disbelief with a subtle smile hanging on his lips. "You really hate the idea of marriage, don't you?" He then turned his back to them and dunked a spotted quill in the inkwell and stood back up. "May we speak freely with each other?"

"Only family can truly speak freely with each other, stupid." Without her holding on to him this time, Rickon jumped from his chair moved to Aegon and helped him make it back to his bed.

After settling back into a comfortable spot, Aegon weakly coughed. "All the same, I have need of you to make an exception this one time."

Her eyes glazed over in thought and after a few moments of silence she agreed. "Fine, this one time."

"Why are you so resistant to the idea of marriage?"

The youngest Stark then watched as his sister's eyes lit up in anger when Aegon lifted his lute back to his lap. After making two sad sounds with a pluck of the strings he looked back up at Arya and urged her to answer. "I don't and won't be any man's property."

The Dragon King's lips formed a straight line and any feelings that he had felt were not apparent by looking at his face. "You speak as if all women are men's property. I'm sure your own parents did not have such a relationship."

"My parents were special. I don't want to be stuck at the home of whatever man you or my sister force me to marry. Who wants to live a life of nothing but birthing children and knitting?" Rickon felt his sister was right, as what male or female would want a boring life of that?

Aegon's violet eyes rose to meet his sister's and after a moment of fighting Arya's unyielding will he lost to her incomparable stare and was forced to look away. "My ancestor Visenya Targaryen was a wife and mother, and she was a renowned warrior and leader amongst men all the same."

Rickon did remember that name fondly from the stories his sister had told to him about the warrior queen, and he knew that would strike her in some place. "And she had dragons. You all speak of me as if I can't defend or take care of myself. But I survived the war on my own and not only did I survive, but I found myself. I know who I am and I know that I'm not some prized animal to be given off to whoever you or my sister decide."

That had silenced the Dragon King and it was a while longer before he collected himself and responded to her. "Brave Danny Flint thought she could look after herself too, and we both know how that ended." Rickon did not know who this 'Brave Danny Flint' was, but it had caused his sister to flinch for a brief moment. "I in truth cannot say that your thoughts would be any different from my own if I was in your place. So know that I won't force you to marry anyone you don't wish to. I can however not promise that your sister will give up in her pursuit of finding a match for you."

"I can handle my sister." Arya promised.

The King simply shrugged his shoulders then. "Now that I see you are willing to spell your truths out to me, I need to ask you something that I have no doubts may hurt you to speak of." His sister's eyebrows raised in curiosity and Aegon looked to Rickon. "You once told me that you didn't remember your family ... and no boy should ever have grow without those memories." He to look back at Arya and with pained eyes he told her what he wanted. "Tell your brother and I about your family. From your earliest memory to your last. The good times and the bad times."

"Why?" Arya asked with a suspicious look evident on her face and it had panicked Rickon when he saw her hands balled up in the hem of her dress where he knew her dagger lay.

"Rickon deserves to hear about the family he never knew."

"Then let me tell him alone. Why do you need to hear any of that?"

"Call it a favor on my behalf. If that is not enough to persuade you, then I can promise that it might save your bastard brother's life when the time comes for me to turn north."

As Aegon said that Arya's hand had shot to her needle and before either Rickon or the King could react to her it was just barely breaching the skin of his pale white neck. "You may be a King, but I'm a sister who loves her brother. He forsook his oaths to the Night's Watch to save who he thought was me, and I'll be damned by your seven gods before I let you kill him."

A thin line of blood dripped from the point of needle and rolled down the King's throat and with no great fear on his part he responded. "What of your little brother or your sister Sansa? Would you forsake them to protect a brother that stole their inheritance? I sadly cannot promise how any of my followers or lords will act should you kill me here."

"He didn't steal anything." Arya proclaimed with finality and not once did her hand tremble around her needle's grip. "Remember the next time you think of my brother, that I could have stuck the pointy end of this here sword in your throat."

"You call that a sword?" His sister did not look any bit amused by his jape and held her needle to his neck for a time longer before pulling it away and climbing back off the bed and into her seat. "Well I can see that you must love your brother greatly to be willing to risk your life for him. That already speaks much about his true character. One who can get on your good side is worthy of a song I feel." Arya was still seething and Rickon feared for Aegon's life the more he spoke. "Mayhaps I should sing of him now?" Before he could reach for his lute Arya had stolen it from the bed and held it in her lap. The Dragon King licked his teeth in amusement and in his left hand he held her valyrian steel dagger between two fingers. "You have an awful habit of losing this," He let her snatch it back from him and advised her. "Get a blacksmith to look at it, the handle is quite loose, wouldn't want it to come off when you need it most."

"I tire of your games." His sister relented. "So where should I start?"

The King moved higher up on his bed and looked up into the white canopy above him. "From the beginning. Tell me about the first memory you have of this Jon Snow."


	59. The Halfman Hand

Tyrion:

 

“Everyone is accounted for and awaiting you, M’lord.” Said Gerold Storm from behind his heavy halberd of black steel and under his white swan helm. That was good as he did hate to waste time when there were so many things to be done, especially with so many lords and merchants to be met and haggled with in the coming days.

Looking to his far left he saw Ser Daemon Sand, Princess Arianne Martell's sworn shield and possible paramour who leaned against the wall and pretended as if he was not listening to every word of their exchange. "Good morning, Ser Daemon." Tyrion said with his most polite tone of voice and an added tip of his head for good measure.

The almost blond haired man blinked several times and pretended as if he was sleeping prior to his call by letting loose a yawn and groan. "Ahh, good morn, Lord Tyrion." It was quite the nest of vipers and thorns that they had put themselves into, turn one corner and you see a Tyrell ... go out for a spot of fresh air in the gardens and you meet a dornishman. This man however seemed to wear most of his intentions on the outside and had Tyrion not felt such overwhelming contempt flowing from the man he may have grown to enjoy him, but alas. It was not three days passed that Harrold Arryn and Balon Swann had come close to finding blows with the man after a small comment on the King's health and vitality was raised by the latter, thankfully however the Blackfish stepped in and quelled their tensions that time.

Turning back to Ser Gerold, he whispered. "Keep a close watch, and about that prisoner ... have you,"

The captain of Aegon's household guard nodded and finished. "Aye, I'll have him brought to your chambers after the council gives out, M'lord." It was with great trust Tyrion had put into him as not a man or woman could know.

Walking passed the line of soldiers he entered the Queen's Ballroom and mentally cursed his sister for burning down the Tower of the Hand which would have housed him and the council's meetings both. And he would be damned if he let the Tyrells weasel their way out of building its replacement, and they would consider themselves blessed by Baelor himself if that was the only cost of their treason. The ornate table of cherry wood looked quite minuscule in the ballroom, he felt as he looked upon it and at how little space it took in the Ballroom. The room was built to house a hundred or more and yet now it was merely being used for ten of the most influential and important men and women in the Seven Kingdoms.

As the newly formed council spotted him they all rose to their feet in a sign of respect, whether it was for real or a show it differed with each member. Taking his place at the head of the table he pulled himself into the comfortable chair and first noticed the gold encrusted goblet placed before him was already filled with a sour dornish vintage. After a small sip of the fine vintage he spoke to the still standing council. "Please sit and relax my Lords and Ladies, we have very much to discuss and I'd rather not be confined to this room all day." Studying the layout and seating arrangements of the council closely.

To his immediate right was Lady Nymeria Sand, the new Master of laws or justiciar as she preferred to be known as. Fair and slender as the most ambitious maid strove to become she was with that she could capture the attention of every man, common or noble in the keep, be they married or not.  _Sand Snake._ Tyrion always had to warn himself even on the most innocent of looks he stole in her vicinity and with those looks he found the truth that her father had left very little of himself in her. The only thing that truly provided a resemblance to Prince Oberyn was her deep widows peak which she only accentuated by pulling her dark hair back into a tight braid that she tied with many ribbons of varying colors that cascaded down the pale white skin of her back.

Further down from her was Princess Arianne who acted as a direct representative of her father Prince Doran and his will. She was dressed in the most outrageous gown of silks imagined that did little to keep her warm in the cold and around her neck were many ostentatious jewels that made it all too apparent to all who looked upon her what her station was. The Princess did however always gift him with the most sweetest of looks and brightest smiles which only served to betray her with what he knew she hoped to achieve with them.  _Don't trust her or her charm._ He had been warned.  _Make no mistake that she is playing this game solely for herself._ Acting on that advice he had done his best to keep Myrcella occupied and away from the Martells, both for her safety and to keep her mind from scurrying to her losses, lest they render her incapable once more.

Looking to his left Tyrion gave a small and respectful smile to the chief martial of the realm Brynden Tully, who was one of the few men that he felt he could trust in that room. Under his eyes were heavy bags that served to divulge just how tired all of them truly were already looking further than that Tyrion glanced at his grey hair that surely had been flattened by bedding he had left far too early. Behind him hanging on the back of his chair however was his longsword and under that was a heavy cloak of what looked to be bear with snow still clinging to its many dark strands.

Next to the Blackfish was Lord Randyll Tarly who held his lips tightly and walled himself off from the rest of the room by folding his massive arms across his chest. He was in truth everything that Tyrion figured he would be, a formidable warrior, even fiercer commander, utterly ruthless, and lacking anything that resembled a sense of humor. In truth he reminded him of his own father and would have pitied young Dickon if he was anything less than a budding replica of his father. The Lord Tarly would sit on the council for a few weeks still to two moons at the most, in truth he was simply a representative and placeholder for the new Lord of the Reach Willas Tyrell, but even with that distinction the man commanded all of the respect and power one could mistake for belonging solely to the Lord of the Reach. It was troubling and nothing but in Tyrion's view that the Tyrells had so very quickly swayed to their side without so much as even grumblings or arguments from any lord or lady, no matter how low or high of birth. It had either spoke highly of the great command Willas possessed and of the respect his vassals possessed for him, or of the unutterable thought that it was no accident how the battle ended ... or for the matter of who took the brunt of the blame and punishments.

Further down that side was the Spider who as always wore the most elaborate and colorful of robes he could and the scent of lilac conquered and followed wherever he walked. The eunuch gave him a small and knowing smile that told Tyrion he had not grown lax in his abilities or wits since the last time they had shared seats on a council together and that he still prevailed in knowing more than all, for now. Across from him was the great mastiff of a man who for all purposes was the new Grandmaester as a replacement had still not been sent after Pycelle's murder, reportedly at the hands of the Tyrells if his sister's old spies knew the truth of it. Marwyn looked to be content at most and gave away little of his real thoughts behind the most placating of smiles one could imagine or produce.

Sitting at the far end of the table was the ever swaggering Master of ships and still freshly legitimized Lord of Driftmark and house Velaryon, he wore a wide brimmed hat which wedged in it's peak was an exotic feather of black and white stripes. It was his crown of sorts, Tyrion felt as he briefly eyed the almost beautiful man and with only one quick glance anyone could be forgiven for thinking that the man was the King himself as besides for a few very minor differences the only real feature that gave his identity away was his sea green eyes which served to make him somewhat more approachable.

"I hope the morn is treating you fairly, Lord Hand." Said the fresh faced Warden of the East who looked to be the only person who was truly happy to be up this so very early and here all of places. The only reason for that Tyrion could think of was that the youth was fairly excited to be a part his first ever council, mayhaps he thought they would be doing some actually good? As usual his state of apparel was well and he was dressed in his finest silks of blue and white and clasping his cloak to his shoulder was a silver pendant of a falcon flying over a wolf which was no doubt a wedding present from some lord or another.  

"Not as fair as I feel the noon would have treated me, but alas as all men are made to suffer and Gods know they love to see me squirm." Tyrion said back and then took another quick sip of wine which served to give him the needed boost of energy and confidence. "Before we start on official matters of the city and kingdom, would anyone like to bring up any and all concerns or grievances of their own?" Briefly eyeing each and every soul at the table he briefly caught Marwyn's brown eyes and the man subtly nodded in response and dipped his quill into the inkwell before him. Prepared he was and ready to record everything and anything said today, and most importantly who by.

The first to speak was the Princess Arianne who with a caring and gentle voice asked. "When will his Grace be returning to his duties? I have many matters that need to brought directly to him, personally." She finished in a husky voice that hid nothing of her disdain for Tyrion leading in Aegon's place. She had done little to temper her complaints of the lodgings given to her and the rest of her party in the last few days and Varys had mentioned not too long past that she expected to be given a room in Maegor's Holdfast as if she was already Queen. Her only real argument for her case was her ties to Aegon through his mother, but it was much more than family bonding she wished upon him and that was stress he could go without for now. In truth however Lady Margaery had brought up similar concerns about her own housing too, though she did so in much subtler fashion, preferring to cite how cramped the Maiden Vault was becoming with all of the guests in the city while only the King's apartment in Maegor's Holdfast was being occupied.

He did hesitate to guess what matters she wished attempt on Aegon however, but if she wished to play the game that way than he would not hinder her for now. "As you should remember Princess Arianne, his Grace's coronation is tomorrow and he will continue his vigil in Baelor until then. After that you are free to request a private audience with him at your leisure, if you wish I would be more than happy to arrange it." It was something Marwyn had been completely against and for what it was worth Tyrion agreed with the man, as who was the High Sparrow to withhold blessing until Aegon had been knighted by him? And furthermore was his demand that Aegon spend three days of silent vigil before the figures of the Seven for his lifelong sin of lying and finally to be knighted.

Her face never once dimmed as she nodded her understanding and when she responded. "That is more than kind of you, I accept." Her large dark eyes then trailed to the other end of the table and spoke to Harrold Arryn who visibly stiffened and sat straighter in his chair when she spoke to him. "May I ask when your Lady Wife will arrive, my good Lord Arryn? I have a very pressing matter that I would like to bring before her as the apparent head of house Stark."

The sandy haired youth swallowed down a hard lump in his throat and answered her in his own time after shuffling the no doubt lust filled thoughts that floated in his surely addled mind away when he looked upon her. "Sadly the snows are falling much harder in the Riverlands than they are here. They've been slowed to little more than a crawl near the Gods Eye and I instructed her to take all the time that she needs, I don't wish-"

"My niece is as you've no doubt heard showing the early signs pregnancy, Princess Arianne." The Blackfish finished for the Lord Arryn. "I would give her a week at the most." Princess Arianne smiled kindly and nodded her head in thanks for their confirmation. The whole situation in truth had been a real place of contempt of between Harrold and Brynden, heated and quite animated was the only way Tyrion could accurately describe. Harrold thought she would do much better by his side than by herself in Riverrun and had taken it upon himself to send for her to be brought to him, and the Blackfish had thrown a rather large fit and tried to remind him of the suffering she had once endured in King's Landing, but in the end Harrold would not budge. For what little he felt his thoughts on the matter were worth, to Tyrion the notion of forcing her back into that nest of liars so soon sat quite poorly in his stomach, but he could not act with Aegon's authority to persuade Harrold's mind and Aegon himself seemed fairly content to let Harrold sink into whatever mess he made of late as long as it did not affect his coronation.

The voice of the Lord of Horn Hill was the next one to rise which shocked him greatly as he did not expect to hear from the man until far later. "I would like to bring up the matter of the Kingsguard."

Lightly tugging at the chain of hands that felt far too tight around his throat, Tyrion composed his thoughts and forced the sight of Shae's face from his mind. "What is it that you would like to discuss about it, my Lord? You do not have any sons to nominate for consideration if I remember your line correctly. Yes, that's right, your eldest boy you forced into the Night's Watch and the younger one is your current heir." He then let the cold metal of his badge of office slip from his fingers and when he heard the slightest jingle it made against his chest he felt his stomach tighten in pain.

"My eldest ... son, chose of his own free will to abandon his inheritance. And I was directed by my liege lord to nominate his younger brother, Ser Loras for a position. He is a greatly capable warrior and is courteous, noble, and always faithful. I strongly believe that he would make a fine addition to his Grace's Kingsguard." Explained the martially inclined man whose assertions could not be denied at face value and who would know a real warrior from a false one in all honesty. It was just a pity that his loyalty and Loras' past indiscretions and nature of flipping to the most convenient side debased him, though the latter was something his house seemed to make a great habit of.

Word put it long before they had arrived in the capital that the Knight of Flowers took many wounds on Dragonstone and some even claimed it for fact that he had died or at the very least was maimed for life after being boiled alive in the greatly vicious siege of Dragonstone. However from what Tyrion had seen of him a few days past King's Landing falling he had looked the same as he had when Tyrion had seen him at Joffrey's wedding. No doubt a ploy by the Tyrells to confuse and bolster his sister and her allies into thinking they had secured a small victory, though it seemed particularly complex and risky a plan for such small gains. In truth it was something that Tyrion lacked the time to bother with and on Aegon's command Ser Loras along with his family had been pardoned on the condition that Lady Margaery be kept in King's Landing as an 'honored guest' until both Lord Willas and Lord Garlan arrived to personally swear their loyalty, a condition she did not seem at all opposed to. 

"Ser Loras has already served on three former Kingsguard. All of those Kings have met with early deaths while Loras has continued living on. Not exactly the greatest precedence he is setting for himself or his reputation." He knew for certain that Ser Loras did not deserve and could not be trusted with a spot of such importance as he would have been only the second to Ser Balon and while Balon could be trusted entirely, Loras could be distrusted almost as equally.

The hard faced man showed no signs of doubt and pressed forward. "And yet the Lord Commander himself was sworn to another king before his Grace. Would you say that he is untrustworthy? Both men while apart of Tommen's Kingsguard did not once raise a sword against our cause which I think is quite telling of their real loyalties." It had flown effortlessly from the man's mouth ... so effortlessly that Tyrion was certain he had stayed up all night practicing it in front of a looking glass until he could accept it as nothing but fact. "His Grace when a young lad had even lived with Ser Loras at Highgarden. He knows the full extent of his prowess with a blade."

It did no good to continue in this fashion as in the end it was only at Aegon's discretion that the members were chosen and Tyrion could do little else but advise him for a man or against in Ser Loras' case. "I will be sure to pass your thoughts on to King Aegon when he returns to court, Lord Randyll. And rest assured that you have clarified some very compelling points in my mind that I will be sure to bring to his Grace's attention." That seemed to pacify him for the moment though it was apparent that Lord Tarly knew very well what side Tyrion sat on in this instance.

"I would also like to bring forth another candidate, Ser Rolland Storm surrendered to Ser Loras after Dragonstone fell and has freely thrown himself at the Crown's mercy. I personally can vouch for the man's skill and he is an excellent knight in all aspects and lives up to all the virtues the Warrior embodies." Rolland Storm the bastard of Nightsong was a name that Tyrion had not heard in a great deal of time. Not since the battle of Blackwater to be exact where his brother and him had been instrumental in allowing Stannis Baratheon to escape.

The Blackfish spoke up next and came to sides with Randyll. "I can agree with that nomination. If his desire to serve at his Grace is true that is." If Tyrion remembered correctly the man's earliest accolade had come from Robert's Rebellion where he had taken sides with the Targaryen's and assisted Lord Tarly in giving Robert his first loss of the war. His renown had only grown from there and he had become quite a feared opponent against the Ironborn during their rebellion and of rumors of his fanatical worship of the Warrior's aspect.

All in all he seemed a fair option, though Tyrion knew that he would need to organize a private audience to truly gain a sense of the man before feeling comfortable bringing the matter before Aegon. The bastard of Nightsong was a more appealing choice than Loras however and would be treated as such. "I'll be sure that Ser Rolland is added to the discussion as well, anything further, Lord Randyll?"

"Yes, in fact. I would like to ask upon the status of Ser Humfrey and his petition for support." That was a far more complicated situation that not even Tyrion himself was completely privy to. The youngest boy of the Hightowers had come the day before the last leading an impressive arsenal and fleet that carried the arms of Lys. One could have been forgiven for thinking they were under attack at the time the ships came into view and Waters had even acted as such until the white flags of parlay were waved to state their real intentions. The Blackfish had been among the first to arrive in the harbor and the first of the new arrivals to touch the dock was Ser Humfrey himself who wasted no time in bowing his head before Tully and pledging his family's support to the Targaryens once more, or in his words, 'the Hightowers have once again come to serve the one and only ruling house of Westeros'. He had presented nearly a dozen chests filled to the very brim with gold and silver and nearly triple their worth of casks filled with the rarest of vintages.

Marwyn had assured both Brynden and Tyrion that the Hightowers' message would be delivered to Aegon one way or another and so the subject at the time was dropped and waited on, but now one of them would need to soothe the issue for the time being. "The King has not been here to even hear about his arrival, Lord Tarly." Lord Brynden said and thankfully he had offered himself up as the target for Tarly in Tyrion's place which was something he would not discourage him from doing. "But as with all of the others who have come forth to surrender, I'm sure that he and his house will be treated quite fairly."

The owner of Heartsbane grunted back. "But that was not my concern, my Lords. I wished to hear when we will finally strike out together and purge the accursed Ironborn from our lands." They were the very same 'accursed Ironborn' who with their distraction of the Reach had split the Tyrell's attention and allowed Aegon to strike directly at the throat of King's Landing.

If they had not asked for so very much then Tyrion would have been happy to let them continue their war against the Reach for however much gold, food, women, or what have it they wanted.  _This is my kingdom and I will not let it go molested by any foe, be they native or foreign._ Aegon's voice had chimed through Tyrion's head and as the Hand of the King he would exercise his power. "I can personally assure you that his Grace will address this concern when he returns to his duties. But as the Hand of the King I can promise you that Euron Greyjoy will be dealt with in good time."

At that moment the ever confident Lord of the waters spoke up. "And as the Master of ships I have already prepared the Crown's dromonds and have begun inspection of the Lyseni fleet Ser Humfrey commands. When the time arrives we will be more than ready to take the battle to them and not even on their longships will they be able to hide from our justice." It would have been more than enough for him if the man would have stopped there, but as always with Lord Velaryon his personal accomplishments of past glories needed to be restated or he would in fact cease to exist it seemed. "As you might remember, Lord Tarly, it was because of my skill and cunning that Blackwater Bay belonged solely to his Grace during the battle. I trapped and grounded the remainder of the Redwyne fleet on Dragonstone though I had nary a tenth of their numbers. So when it comes to taking the fight to the Ironborn I will be leading the combined navies of our King."

It was soon after Lord Velaryon's outburst that they had resigned themselves to the tedious squabbles of what was owed to who and who had not paid their fair share from then on. And until the setting of the sun they talked and argued which thankfully ended the council's talks for that day. Tyrion though kept his seat and watched as the room cleared with exception of Archmaester Marwyn and the Spider. "You did well today." Varys exclaimed as the Blackfish closed the door behind himself and left the room.

"Did you have such little faith in me that I couldn't?" Tyrion asked as he refilled his goblet for what felt like the ninth time that day. "I haven't been out of the loop for that long." He added before taking a sip.

The Spider giggled in a most flamboyant fashion and shook his head. "You understand me wrong, my Hand. I was simply complimenting how well you dealt with each of them."

Marwyn then cleared his throat to silence the room and dropped his quill back into his inkwell. "I found my former colleague last night."

Qyburn, the man's name was. The very same man who had tended to Jaime's hand and prevented infection. He was also the same man who had become his sister's right hand and taken over as the master of Whispers after Varys' premature departure. "We both tended to agree on a philosophy of free thought within the Citadel. Though he happened to be much more willing than even I to push the limits of what one would consider ... acceptable." Marwyn had told Tyrion one late night over a flagon of sweet plum wine in Riverrun. "He wanted to know everything there was to know about death. And not just how the body did die, but if it was at all possible to raise one back and even improve them. Ebrose had always been jealous of his talents as a healer and feared the very likely possibility of Qyburn replacing him, I'd never seen the man so happy as the day we banished Qyburn."

He nodded at the news, but noticed a slight look of regret on Marwyn's hard lined face. "So where was he hiding then?" They had scoured the keep for every member of Cersei's followers after it had fallen, but he had proven to be quite the persistent rat it seemed.

"He's dead," That was a mild surprise to Tyrion that they could have overlooked a dead body so easily. "His femoral artery was cut and I followed the trail of blood down into the black cells and found his body at the bottom of the stairs." He did not know of what the Maester referred to by 'femoral artery' but that was not nearly as important as the fact the man was murdered. "It seems your sister was far more permitting of his experiments then we were at the Citadel."

 _Just like Cersei, willing to use and throw away any and alls lives for her own gains._ Tyrion thought in disgust and could hardly imagine the horrors that Marwyn had found in the black cells. "Why couldn't you find him? I thought you bragged that you knew everything that went on within these walls?" He asked the eunuch in mild disappointment.

Varys bowed his head as a bright red blush crept onto his face in embarrassment. "Forgive me, but there were oh so many corpses that I must have overlooked him in my rush to escape the foul stench that haunted those levels."

In truth Tyrion felt some relief that death had found the man if the stories Varys had told him of his experiments were true. It would do no good to have a man accused of black magic and necromancy being connected in anyway to them while the High Sparrow continued in his crusade against the unholy and unvirtuous. "Regardless, it is good we're are rid of him and I'll drink to another one of our enemies finding his way to an early grave."

Both Varys and Tyrion drank to that, but Marwyn did not share in that with them and responded in turn. "While his experiments may have been cruel and even sadistic, do not undermine what good they still may serve. His results have already provided me with a great many insights into the body that may not have ever been discovered without his efforts. So very much so that I would not be surprised to learn of the grey sheep covertly adding him back into the history books as a maester of the highest intelligence and claim him to be one of their greatest students." The man then lifted his goblet and emptied its contents with haste and beamed after removing it from his lips. "But enough of mourning those who've fallen, we've won another battle and the Reach's support is all but assured when Lord Willas and Garlan arrive."

Varys took another sip wine to that and after filling his own goblet Marwyn drank deep once more, but Tyrion himself held back that time and murmured just loud enough for both men to hear and contemplate. "Aye, it all worked out just so perfectly in the end did it not?" It would forever nag at his mind when he struggled most to find sleep and he felt it would until his very last days he guessed. For how could Jaime fly into such a rage that not even the Tyrells could protect Mace Tyrell from him? He hesitated to even wager a two handed Jaime being able to accomplish a feat of that impossible level. Even more unbelievable than that was how he could kill not only Cersei who was forever his weakness, but also Tommen. Tyrion believed in his heart that the former was something that Jaime could not do even at his lowest and worst. The answers to his questions though were ones he felt would evade him through the conventional means of men, answers that men of more grounded beliefs and tools could never obtain or would not because of their archaic beliefs and sensibilities. "It almost buggers belief that my brother could accomplish all of the charges that Lord Tarly throws at him, don't you think?"

The Spider's smile crept higher and wider then and without missing a beat he lied directly to Tyrion's face. "From the accounts of my little birds it seems that he was simply inconsolable. After the Tyrell troops begged him to surrender the keep to spare their lives, he and your sister's guards attacked them and forced them all the way to the throne room. I've even heard some whisper that Ser Jaime turned his blade on his own brother in arms Ser Boros after he struck down the poor Lord Tyrell."

He swallowed the Spider's lies easily enough and announced. "Well, I hope to hear all of that for myself as I've already arranged for one of the survivors of the battle to give me his own account of what really did happen that day." Both Marwyn and Varys took on faces of fleeting surprise that tried masked the fears they held, which may have worked on anyone else not familiar with their ways and how they function. Tyrion however had wizened considerably to their games and more importantly their weaknesses.

"That was entirely unnecessary, Tyrion. I would have been more than happy to prepare him and an audience for this little interrogation." Marwyn stated and he wagered the mastiff would too, but it would be all too easy to threaten and bribe a man to hold his tongue lest he lose it. And far too easy in Tyrion's opinion to place all blame on a dead man, and even if only for his own sanity he wanted the truth of everything that day. And with a glimmer of hope that mayhaps he would even receive some justice from Aegon if anything was substantial.

After removing himself from his all too comfortable seat and bidding both men a good night he left the Queen's Ballroom and was immediately greeted to the sight of his squire who leaned on the same wall that Ser Daemon had occupied earlier in the day. Though unlike Daemon, Pod had jumped to his feet at the very sight of him and exclaimed his curt greetings.

"Have you seen Captain Gerold?" He asked his squire who nodded his head enthusiastically. Without waiting for Pod's response he turned in the direction of his chambers and his thoughts briefly wandered to the condition of Sansa and what evil she must have done in a past life to deserve Harrold as he remembered his performance or lack thereof.

"Lord Tyrion, the Captain ... he told me to tell you that your, prisoner ... well he is in your chambers." Pod whispered from behind as he struggled to keep up a fair pace with Tyrion, not too close as to bump into him should he stop short, but not too far from him as to allow his voice to be easily overheard. Truly a squire that a fair many knights would desire to have, Tyrion mused.

"Good, good, Pod." Tyrion said under his breath to silence his squire and help collect his own thoughts.  _I should have enough time to see her before supper._ He hoped as Myrcella did not have many willing companions to keep her company. Those he had guilted or paid to entertain her did not have a future in acting as his niece had not required more than a few hours at the most to see through them and dismiss them from her presence. "Maybe Sansa would be willing if I asked." Tyrion murmured aloud hoping Pod would either confirm his idea or call out his lunacy, as why would she want to congregate with the sister of a boy who took great pleasure in torturing her and having his guards beat her.  _Though he never was much kinder to either Myrcella and Tommen._ He remembered that quite well and how disgusted he was of the endless excuses Cersei made for him and of the apathy Robert had for near everything not wine or women that were not Cersei.  _Maybe they could bond over their misfortune?_ Tyrion wondered.

"Or mayhaps Lady Arya." Pod added and nearly caused Tyrion to choke on his own spittle at the thought of the frost hearted she-wolf and Myrcella finding any friendship with each other. More likely she would stick Myrcella through the heart than be friendly with her, he guessed. "She mostly dotes on Lord Rickon and batters those who propose to her. I found it funny at first, but I'm worried she'll kill one of them. Lord Edric simply won't give in."

Tyrion chuckled lightly and soothed Pod's worries. "I'll make sure the Blackfish hears of your concerns." They then both exited the Holdfast and crossed over the slick drawbridge and back into the warmth of the Red Keep just in time to catch a passing glimpse of youngest Stark girl's monster of a wolf who rounded a corner in the direction of her chambers, no doubt looking for it's master. "She is rather pretty, mayhaps you should try your own luck, Pod." As they reached the steep steps that led to Tyrion's own apartments he caught the smallest of glimpses at the boy's face and of how it crimsoned.

"I couldn't, my Lord. She is far too highborn for me. And I wouldn't want to offend Lady Brienne." Pod stuttered out and then quickly scrambled up the stairs after Tyrion who had started the climb far ahead of him. "She's taken it upon herself to protect Lady Arya from the court, she even asked me to keep an eye of my own on Edric too. Just too make sure he doesn't try to force her." His squire pulled closer and blocked him at the top of the stairs and kneeled down to ear height and whispered lowly with shifting eyes as if the Stranger itself was watching and listening. "Lady Arya met with a hooded women near the Traitor's Walk last night. I couldn't hear what they talked about, I was too far away but they spoke for only a minute at most. I followed them just far enough away so they couldn't see me ... but they lead me to a dead hall near the northern side of the walls and then they simply vanished."

Tyrion himself looked over Pod's shoulder and saw no one of real concern, a coal boy, a pretty washerwoman, and a slight child playing on the floor with a painted wooden horse. "Did you recognize the women?" Pod shook his head and looking deep into his squire's eyes he saw true concern and fear present. "It seems I don't give you nearly enough tasks if you can spend your evenings spying on girls." It would do no good for his health to get mixed up with someone as dangerous as Arya Stark. Tyrion in truth feared the magnitude of what she could be capable of, which to an ordinary man would have sounded insane. He however knew that he was right in his assumptions to treat her so dangerously, if Marwyn had cause to fear the girl than she was one that every man would be wise to tread lightly with. _She survived one way or another, all through the War of Five Kings unharmed and unspoiled._ _Keep a very close eye on her, Lord Tyrion._  Varys had warned him several times now, she had the great guile to evade even him which was an incredible mixture of luck and talent and even if she was unaware of her efforts it was commendable. "Stay out of it, Pod. It would not do either of us any good for you to go and disappear."

Pod disagreed and voiced it far too readily and loudly in a castle with so many ears. "But I promised Brienne that I would help her. I made a sacred oath, I cannot just stay out of it now." It was a strange feeling in his gut then to receive rejection of any kind from the quiet boy who oh so depended on him. "I've never seen the woman before and she didn't look like a servant, maybe a cook-"

"Enough, Pod. I'll ask Varys what he knows about her comings and goings when I can, but you can't keep going on as you were ... it's unseemly and others would misunderstand." Tyrion shuddered to think of the accusations that would be thrown at him should he be found in that compromising of a position. And that was also on the wishful assumption that the Blackfish would not jump to conclusions and deal with Pod himself.

Pod was fairly slow though to understand Tyrion's gist but when he did he furiously shook his head and defended himself. "I'm no deviant I swear, my thoughts are not in anyway-"

"You don't need to tell me, I know that for myself, but others won't. Even without cause or reason most everyone in this city love to assume the worst of each other." Tyrion momentarily caught the eye of the boy playing with the wooden horse and was forced to calm himself. Leaning in close he purposelessly eyed the boy several times and caught Podrick onto the fact that they were drawing a small ruckus.

His squire then rose back to his full length and moved from Tyrion's way. After rounding two more corners and climbing another set of steps, Pod spoke up for a final time. "After turning down Erick Byrch's proposal she met with her brother on the walls and after cornering a boy in the gardens for bumping into her she disappeared near Maegor's Holdfast." He was being rather doughty of late, Tyrion thought and wagered if perhaps he had been too lenient with him of late. _What did it really matter what she does with her day?_  Tyrion knew that he had far more important matters to deal with.

As they arrived outside his apartment two men of the Swannguard stood watch before his door and bowed out of the way as he drew near, never taking their eyes from the floor as they did. "Lord Hand." They both murmured as Tyrion passed by them and into his far too ostentatious living quarters that he believed had belonged to the Cougher before his passing.

Tyrion first spotted Captain Gerold as he entered his room and then kneeling on the floor with heavy shackles on both his hands and feet was a rough shaven man of similar age to himself he guessed. "You didn't have to make him sit on the floor like a dog." He chided as he passed between them and grabbed the thankfully filled flagon.

"I didn't want him to stain your furniture." Ser Gerold explained as he handed Tyrion a pink crystal goblet. "He pissed himself while we escorted him out of the dungeons." He added while shooting a look of disgust at the prisoner.

The flax haired man's voice cracked as he offered his own excuse for the dark spot smirching the front of his mud colored tunic. "I thought you were bringing me to the headsmen. I don't want to die, honest m'lords, I was just recruited a few moons ago. I swear that I'm not loyal for the lions or nothing, I just wanted to keep me' belly filled."

Tyrion ignored most of the man's pleading as he pulled himself into his favorite reading chair which was made of a supple white leather and tiger wood. Just as Podrick shut the door behind him and lowered the locking mechanism he silenced the man's tongue. "I understand that you served my sister."

It was almost as if he was watching the man's mind working as his pale brown eyes twitched while they searched for a suitable answer. "Not at first, M'lord. I first followed Lord Kevan day and night until-"

"Until he died and you failed in your one and only job, yes I know. After that you became a soldier for my sister, correct?" The man was wise enough not to speak again and simply nodded his head. "I assume you have a name that your mother and father called you?" He hesitated before stuttering out the particularly common name of Daven which gave Tyrion something to refer to him by. "Now Daven, I need you tell me everything that you saw on the day of the attack."

All heads in the room turned to the far window across the room as Pod closed the shutters with a force that seemed to even shock himself. "Well, when the rocks rained from the sky most half of us fled or threw our cloaks to the ground with hopes of turning sides."

"But not you?" Tyrion asked as he took a sip of dornish strongwine.

"No, M'lord. At least not then." He reached up to the tight collar of his tunic and pulled on it hard to alleviate some imagined heat in the freezing cold sitting room. "Me and some of my mates stayed on guard in front of the armory until a page from Fishmonger Square returned to the keep and told us of their defeat. After that we knew the battle was lost.

"Did you see Ser Jaime Lannister even once that day?" He asked with little to no patience left that day.

"Aye I did, he tried to rally the garrison into sullying out to kill that Dragon. I-I didn't want to fight any Dragon and neither did most of us, I think. Nary a tenth of us went with him and from what I heard down in the cells only three of them came back." It had all sounded to Tyrion like a desperate gamble Jaime would attempt, he would not have wanted to die on a headsman's block if a there was a battle to be had.

Captain Gerold then bumped Daven in the back with the tail of his halberd and coaxed him on. "And tell him what you saw later when you were pilfering the keep for valuables."

"I didn't want to do that! My mates said that all we took would be payment for our service and if the Lions were dead then they couldn't very well pay us, it was only fair, m'lords." It took another blunt smack in the leg courtesy of Ser Gerold's weapon to force Daven's words from his throat. "While we were looking for gold, Commander Jaime returned ... he was badly injured too. I wanted to go help him, he was bleeding all over the floors from his leg, but my brothers said he'd kill us for not going with him or that he'd be expecting us to go fight again and I didn't want to die."

"So you let him wander the halls bleeding and wounded because you were a coward?" Tyrion knew that it was unfair to blame the man as only fools would have done opposite of what the Daven had done, but the seething anger that he felt when thinking of Jaime in such a state could not be helped.

"I did, it's my shame to admit it but I didn't want to die." Daven admitted with a solemn face that seemed genuine, though his sympathy mattered little. "After he passed by us and left us unharmed me and the rest of us stole some simple clothing from the washery and wanted to pose as servants to save ourselves. After I found a golden basin that looked expensive I heard heavy fighting near Great Hall and feared that they'd already found their way inside."

"And was that true?"

He shook his head and breathed out deeply in shame. "I hid under a shelf then and soon after I saw your brother hobble out of the Hall and jam his knife in the handle. He passed by me muttering something I couldn't understand towards the Holdfast."

"To stop someone from following him?" Tyrion hated to admit that Daven's account sounded quite alike with Lord Randyll's own. Daven nodded and he went on. "Was Jaime armed?"

"No, he wasn't. I think he must have lost it when fighting in the city 'cause I saw no sword when he first returned too."

 _No sword and bleeding profusely. Prime condition to kill Mace Tyrell, cross swords with Tarly, and ravage Tommen like a wild animal._ The corners of Tyrion's mouth twitched in brief amusement at the lengths Tarly had went through to save himself and soldiers.  _Could he have killed him? And Tommen too?_ It seemed a far fetched idea to believe Tarly would turn on Mace after so many years of protecting him and forsaking his own glory for the Fat Flower, but Tyrion knew for himself that all men can only take so much before they turn everything expected of them on it's head.

"That will be all, Daven." Tyrion announced as he took another sip of wine and then he looked to Ser Gerold and ordered him. "Give him some silver and escort him out of the city. He's done all that I've asked and I think we can both agree that he will not trouble his Grace again."

"Thank you, thank you, M'lord. I won't trouble anyone ever again I swear it on all the Seven and Old Gods at that too." Daven exclaimed with such joy and happiness tears would not have been remised.

Ser Gerold's voice caught in his throat briefly before he fiercely protested to that idea. "King Aegon was very clear that no one was permitted to be tried or released until he was here to do it. Grandmaester Marwyn does not even know that he's gone yet, it would-"

"I remember quite well what his Grace said, and I also clearly remember him informing you and everyone else that I have full authority to act in his stead as his right hand. Now please remove the shackles from him and do as I asked." Tyrion exclaimed with a polite smile that did nothing to quell the Captain's hesitation to following those orders.

Gerold pulled Daven up to his feet and shuffled him over to the door without any more arguments besides for one small statement. "Know that I will be informing his Grace and the Grandmaester of this."

"So nice to see true loyalty, I'd be disappointed if you didn't honestly." Tyrion replied back as the door slammed shut behind the Captain. He then looked over at Pod who stood at the ready in the corner of the room with a face of pure relief at the fact that they were gone. "Did you see that, Pod?" His squire nodded once and loosed the tight grip he held on his doublet. "That is how one can so easily make foes in this city, remember how easy it was the next time you think of stalking anyone in this city that I don't tell you to."

Pod swallowed down a hard lump in his throat and licked his chapped lips. "I will, I swear."

"Good, now go and write down everything that was said today. You could use the practice and I want to make certain everything that he said." Tyrion pushed out of his chair and carried the goblet with him as he paced out onto his frost covered balcony and looked far out towards Baelor which shined like a beacon with countless candles in it's many windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been struggling with real life during my absence and have been wondering how far I'm going to take this story, still haven't decided if I'm going to go through with my idea of the second dance of dragons or not.


	60. Whispers

Arya:

 

Tapping her slender finger on the slip of paper she asked him again. "What letter is this?" Her once shaggy headed, but no less unkempt brother craned his neck slightly for a peek out of the window looking for a rare glimpse at the sunlight that they were gifted today. She knew how he felt as at his age she hated to study her letters and even now she wished that she was out there rather than pent up inside, but she had a responsibility to teach him if no one else would.

"Ouch!" He whined after she flicked a sensitive spot of white skin on the back of his neck. Her brother then furiously rubbed at the egregious battle wound with the back of his sleeve looking all the wolf he was inside. "I don't know." He muttered without the slightest attempt of actually trying to decipher the scratching.

"It's an 'a'. It's the first letter in the word apple and is one of the most important at that." Rickon was still ignoring her and so he had forced her to grab his hair like he was one of Sansa's old dolls and with a jerk she tilted his head back towards the lesson.

"I don't care what it is or what it's in. The sun is shining and I want to go running with Shaggy and Nymeria."

She sighed in annoyance and reminded him of his words. "I thought you wanted to learn how to read and write?" He had begged her several times since they first left Harrenhal, but every attempt she had made since resulted in him squirming away from the lessons through an act of either divine favor or kindness on her part, though the latter always felt closer to the truth to her.

"I didn't think it would be so dull ... and takes ages. It's not like I need it, I'm not going to be some big fancy Lord. Edric  _is_  going to be the Lord of Storm's End soon and he can't read." Rickon said with a low smirk that hovered somewhere he felt hidden from her view.

She then slid her chair back from the mahogany table which produced a loud screeching as it marred the cold stone floor. After giving him a coy grin of her own she crossed and propped her legs on the sturdy table in their Uncle Brynden's study and took her time to find the perfect words for him. "Well, Dickon's an idiot and you're not. More than that is that I've said you're going to learn to read and write and that's the end of it. Fair enough?" Her light gray eyes then shut a mere moment before he could argue his weak point that may have sounded strong or well thought out in his head, and hells if it was well thought out as she really did not care. "If you want to play sometime today then finish four letters."

The Stark boy ground his teeth and emitted a low growl before he plucked a bright blue feather from the inkwell and crudely copied four letters on the parchment and stealing glances at her own example several times for assistance. "I did it, now can I go-"

"No," Snatching both sheets of paper from the table Arya tossed them to the floor and smoothed a fresh sheet for him. "Do it without cheating and then tell me the sounds they make and one word they can make up." Her brother's gray eyes dimmed slightly as he hung his head over in a ploy for sympathy that died a swift death with her. In the end it took a mild amount of coaxing from his elder sister still, but in the end he accomplished her task and completed his studies for the day like she knew he could.

As both brother and sister stowed the materials away for the day they heard loud cheers echoing across the city and through their open balcony which served to steal Rickon's attention from his mess. Rickon hopped to his feet in excitement and with batted breath he asked her with desperation. "What's happening out there?"

Uncle Brynden and her had both agreed that Rickon did not need to go to Baelor to watch the coronation, despite his puzzling desire to do so. In the effort she had tried to tell him the truth of what the event entailed which was of how they would stand for a painful amount of time in the cold and stench of the Flea Bottom simply to see Aegon kneel in the snow and be crowned by a man dirty looking enough to pose as a piss poor beggar, and that was if they managed to find a good area that allowed them to see anything of interest. Rickon still persisted in his desire and so they had been forced to tell him that it was a day later than it truly was. "I don't even want to go myself, so be a good girl and look after him until I return." Brynden had asked her early that morn as he slipped out from their apartments while Rickon still slept.

 _It's no place for Starks._ Arya had thought several times in her head the night before while later while she dreamt images of her father's last moments that tormented her dreams. Horrors of Yoren and her being detained by a Gold Cloak who had recognized them and dragged them through the chaos of the crowd to where her father's headless body lay prone. First Joffrey would call for Yoren's head and swiftly after that Ilyn Payne would take the man's his ugly head. She had tried to fight back against the iron grip he held her to no avail and then he would call for Robb's head next and the world would shift to his horrible will on command and Ilyn would next take Robb's head along with Grey Wind's in one foul swoop. Like the demon he was Joffrey had cackled in nothing but joy at the horrible sights created before him and he would complete the vile act of sewing Grey Wind's oversized head on Robb's body. Finally Ilyn Payne would force her to her own knees and prepared to end her misery while her father's mouth would open wide as a ghoul's and curse her for not saving them. But just as her father's sword would rise over her neck the ravenous crowd would morph into the horrible abomination that had became of her mother.

"Well? What's happening over there?" Rickon asked her again with a look of concern evident on his pale face when she failed to answer him.

Before giving him his answer she stowed away the last of their Uncle's quills, she faced and told him the truth as it was far too late for him to do anything now. "The oh so illustrious King Aegon's coronation most like."

Her brother's mouth snapped open in shock and then it morphed to something of mute anger as he hopped off the railing of the balcony and passed by her with a look in his eyes that promised a grand purpose. "You told me it was tomorrow, you liar." Came from under his breath.

Before he could reach the door however she spun around and caught him by the tail end of his long gray tunic. "If the boot fits I suppose. But you had no reason to go, it would have bored you out of your skin, little brother." As he tried to pull away from her she wrapped the loose fabric around her fist and reeled him back closer before catching him in a tight hug.

"Because everyone else got to go and while they were out there, I was stuck in here with you learning stupid letters." Rickon futility struggled against her hold and for his efforts she punished him by lifting him off the ground and snuggling him in closer as she knew how he so hated it.

"All you'd see is some old man putting a crown on his head. If it's that important then you'll see it placed on his head everyday at court, I promise." Her brother's breath fell and rose slowly and she felt the tension trickle from him as he realized he'd to accept a defeat as much as it pained him to ever do so. "What's wrong with being stuck in here with me, huh?" Arya teased as he slipped out from under her arms and flashed a wolfish grin as he ran from the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. "And I know you didn't wash yourself proper last night, I can smell the stink on you!" She called as she poked her head out of the door in time to catch him slide around the far corner of the hall wearing only bare stockings on his feet so very quick that he nearly tumbled down.

Arya then picked up Rickon's fur wrapped boots while she slipped into her own comfy braavosi made ones all while admiring the ornate stitching.  _The gate men will stop him._ She assured herself on the chance that he ignored his lack of foot protection and trampled through the snow before she caught up with him.

It was then a dull clicking on the hallway's floors that gave away the presence of two women while she tightened her boots in her doorway. "Good morning, Lady Arya." Crowed two girls who looked closely of age with Sansa, though she did not recognize either of them well.

"Morning." She replied back curtly while trying to ignore their easily apparent looks of disapproval due to her current state of dress, or even the state of her actually dress. Both ink haired girls in comparison were dressed in similar gowns of orange and white with differing patterns of suns sewn on their chest.  _House_   _Ashford?_ Arya guessed as she followed both pairs of brown and blue eyes study her dress of dark grey which hung loosely over oak brown trousers that she had tucked into the cuffs of her boots.

The blue eyed one seemed to be the tenser of them she judged which Arya reasoned to have meant that the girl's object of desire tried to propose to her or planned to very soon. It had long grown disgusting in her mind her how greedy and ambitious the many squires and unmarried knights of the South were when they sensed an easy way to climb the ladder of power.  _They see a pretty young girl with a very old name who possesses claims on more land than a thousand eyes could see._ Her self appointed 'mentor' had warned her early on and while she wished he was wrong, he rarely was on anything in matters of courtly intrigue.

"I don't suppose you've seen my younger brother, have you? Has my eyes and nary a foot shorter?" Both girl's brows then arched in surprise no doubt at the realization that the shoeless boy who had raced past them was the infamous 'Wild Wolf'. A name she so loathed to hear him called, but her brother in turn loved to hear himself referred to as.

"I saw Lord Stark running towards the northern gate, my Lady." Answered the blotchy faced girl with doe brown eyes who without needing to announce her true feelings made it clear that she did not believe Arya befitting of that title or any at all.

Arya then slammed the door behind her and gave both girls a fright when she did. "Thank you." She then slid between the girls seeking the trail of her younger brother and did not give them a parting look.

The winding halls of the Red Keep were much more lively and active than she would have liked as the coronation at Baelor had recently ended. It was many a man and lady that were all dressed in their finest attires of various silk, satin, velvet and all of their faces rendered pink from the frost. Many of them were all in a great haste to return to their chambers or dining halls in search of comfort before ambling to the throne room it seemed and she would have wagered in hopes of bathing the undersides of the Imp's or her Uncle Brynden's boots which made the seemingly and unavoidable pleasantries she needed to offer them feel near endless.

 _Though now that the King is back ruling in his own stead mayhaps their boots will be dry from now on._  She had mused to herself as many looked to her as an easy way to curry favor with the Chief General. As she bid the plump but amiable Lady Vyrwel a good day a tiny boy with a thick coat of dirt crusted on his leather apron bumped into her. He said no words of apology and without hesitation or error on his part his hand discreetly slipped into hers and left a tied note. "Watch where you're going." She barked at him as he deftly past by her and lost himself in the dense crowd.

"Goodness, I can scarcely believe the rudeness of that boy. We should have him flogged in the square for that." Growled Ser Garth Varner; the youngest brother of Lord Varner who Arya noticed did not move one muscle in any attempt to stop the assailant.

The aging windbag Lord Cupps took it one unneeded step farther. "Where I come from we remove the hands of servants so audacious to assault anyone of noble blood." He then thrust his hand down to the dagger on his belt and flashed the burnished steel. "If you wish it my Lady I will happily relieve him of them."

The sweet but cutting chuckle of Lady Elaena Manwoody provided a worthy distraction that stole attention for her to stow the note away in the loose stitching of her sleeve for later. "Says the man who spent the time prior to our King's coronation complaining about the amount of steps it took to reach his apartments. You couldn't catch a boy that young and sprightly if your next meal depended on it." Lady Elaena's gaze returned to Arya just as Lord Cupps face turned to a more distinct shade of anger rather than exhaust. "If you truly desire an apology from that boy I know my son Lewyn would like nothing more than to fetch him for you." Lady Elaena's unmarried son always did seem to come up in any conversation she had with Arya the latter found. Always praises for the man on his valor, bravery, and vigor though she did keenly leave out her son's comely squire, who behind closed doors did much more than polish her son's shield.

"No, no harm was done at all Lady Manwoody." Ducking a step and leap further from them she added with haste in her voice. "But I really must excuse myself."

"Of course, but we simply must supp together soon."

Arya gave the matriarch of Manwoody a supple smile that never seemed to fail to charm if she put her mind to it. "That sounds quite lovely, and I'm sure my sister Lady Sansa Arryn would adore the chance to meet you herself. So say we delay that until she arrives? My sister is much better company than I." It wasn't a lie, not in truth as Arya was sure her sister wouldn't mind meeting one of the less annoying and stupid ladies in the shit stained capital of Aegon's kingdom. And if she had to suffer through an evening of boring and tedious conversations then why shouldn't Sansa who would undoubtedly would enjoy it as much as she would loathe it?

No wasting anymore time she slid passed the thinning crowds and down a flight of stairs skipping two at a time. After a skip and a hop around several darkened corners and vacated halls she slipped behind a pillar of red marble and dropped Rickon's boots to the floor and unfurled the raven sized note.  _Eleventh hour and lose the Maid and Squire this time, no slips ups allowed._ If it had been at all easy she would have much sooner, but alas her name had proven a massive hindrance to moving unseen. Brienne had proven herself too resilient if nothing else.

"Will you just leave alone?" Arya had screamed at the top of her lungs at the stoic but now taken aback Brienne who had sat quietly for all of the afternoon and watched her practice without so much of a single word or complaint.

Brienne's large blue eyes did not falter once against her stare which did garner a speckle of respect from the Stark. "I cannot, Lady Arya." The Maid of Tarth had dug her boots further into the freshly fallen snow and did her best to hide the effects the cold was having on her for fear of showing weakness as if that was the source of contention. "I will protect you and your sister both until I feel I am no longer needed."

"Everything I say goes in one ear and meets nothing between the other does it?" Arya murmured to herself as she balanced herself back on one foot and stared through Brienne at a rusty adornment above a postern gate trying to focus on it and ignore the burning in her leg. "You know that between Sansa and I, she's the one who would benefit and certainly appreciate you more than I ... don't you?" Looking at Brienne from the corner of her eye she saw the woman lick the gap in her crooked teeth in thought. "You've seen what I'm capable of and you're one of the few people alive that know or at the very least believe everything I've told you and yet instead of condemning me or fearing me," Arya's breath caught sharply in her throat at the cramping in her stomach and back, but she bit her lip and withstood it in silence until it passed. She opened her eyes when it had finally passed and saw the imposing woman had stood up and taken two steps closer and was near ready to steal another. "Sorry," The word had escaped her faster than she knew it and with a sigh of defeat she knew her practice was at it's end for today.

Arya joined Brienne on a waist high stone wall outside of the Red Keep that provided a good view of the sea. "My own mother died when I was very young. She had two stillbirths after me and the last girl was the death of her." Brienne said quietly as the fierce wind whipped the snow and numbed their cheeks. "My father did his best to help me for a time, but it was too much of him to ask. And after my eldest brother Galladon drowned he never really returned to what he was before my mother's death."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Brienne then adjusted the pauldrons of her armor and it raised the question as to why she would wear it. "I fear I may offend you, but I've felt a kinship every time I look at you." Brienne's pretty blue eyes rose higher from the white snow in renewed bravery and she went on with a small and unsure laugh. "Though you're much more confident now than I ever was with myself."

"What do you want from me, Brienne? I can't offer you glory, gold, or even a place at my side." Arya pulled her knees close to her chest and turned to face Brienne. "After my mother died at the Twins ... you through whatever circumstances or convenience found your way to the Kingslayer's side and called him friend. At the moment you heard what his family and the Freys did to mine you had a choice to seek revenge and you did nothing. Nothing but swear your service and undying loyalty to those golden haired shits." The Maid of Tarth's eyes began to ever so slightly dampen and so she struck harder at the one thing that seemed to affect her. "Did you even cry when my mother died? Even mourn her?"

"Of course I mourned her." Brienne argued in vain.

"Mourned her silently, all while fancying the Kingslayer. You know Harwin told me of how you begged and pleaded for Jaime's life, how you pleaded that he was a changed man and wished nothing more than to fulfil his oath." Arya edged closer to Brienne who in turn leaned further away from Arya's truths. "Tell me, if it came down my mother's life or even Sansa's or my own at stake against the Kingslayer's ... who would you choose. Who would live or die and who would die, Brienne?"

The blonde answered without hesitation. "Your's, without question. I won't claim that Jaime was without sin, but he was a changed man after his capture. He wished nothing more than to fulfil his oaths and he ultimately did. He saved Sansa from the Vale and-"

"And right into Harrold's oh so loving hands."

"Your sister chose to marry Lord Harrold, I won't lie to you and say that it was a good choice. But it was hers to make and Jaime had no part in it, he spent that time in Aegon's prison, just like he spent the war in your own brother's." Brienne felt some safety and advantage in her words and pressed back harder to Arya's stifled amusement. "Ser Jaime didn't hand your sister over to Lord Arryn, the King did and she went willingly ... we were both there, Arya."

Combing loose strands of brown back behind her ears she snickered lightly. "I haven't forgotten, I promise you." Fleeting but ever present whispers in court spoke of Brienne cutting down her first King Renly Baratheon flooded into Arya's mind then and though the truth was anything but that, she felt it would do her no harm to prod. "I've heard a lot vicious rumors about you these last few days. Some think you killed Renly Baratheon, your great but impossible love." The Maid of Tarth openly reacted as if she had been struck in response and unwittingly and showed her weakness. "Don't worry, I don't think you did, you're not as spiteful or cruel as that I think. You're someone who would have given your entire life to serving and protecting a man who would never return your affections. I'd heard the rumors of Loras Tyrell and Renly before and it seems they were all true if Margaery Tyrell is still a virgin."

To Arya's great surprise her words had taken the opposite effect on Brienne who looked stronger and more composed now than ever before. "I would have struck down anyone that said half of what you've said to me, does that not show you how much I care?"

The heavy footsteps of Tyrell guardsmen that passed by her in the hall shook her from her daze then and after they passed by her she slung her brother's boots over her shoulders and made her way to the nearest entrance she knew of. It never got easier to find over time she found, a crawlspace before the kitchens, a section of loose boards in the stable, a unused hearth in her apartment, even in the King's room if her guess was right. She checked her corners well this time and made sure that Podrick Payne nor Brienne had found their way to her before slipping her knife from her boot and unscrewing it's handle and jamming it's hidden key into the mouth of a stone wyvern adorning a dusky wall. On cue the wall fell inwards and revealed a darkened tunnel barely tall enough for a child to walk in. "It better be important." Arya murmured to herself as she dropped to all fours and pushed the false wall closed behind her and after a few panic inducing moments of frantic crawling and grabbing in the dark her hand grabbed a thin cord along a dirt packed wall and followed it wishing she had procured a candle or torch, not that she could have carried it.

The ceiling had ever so slowly raised until she could finally stand on her two feet and she than knew she had to be nearing the center of the tunnel system. A errant glow of a candle led her to a boy of five years who stood patiently waiting for the girl who still hadn't learned the tunnels as they all had. "Bring me to him." Arya commanded the boy who silently turned and ran through the darkness, turning and evading a mind boggling series of dead ends and pits that she had been forewarned of.

At the end of the chase she found the rotund Master of whisperers waiting for her with a pleasantly deceiving smile that attempted to hide the true capabilities the man possessed. "Good day, Lady Stark." He greeted her as he lit a second candle with his own. "I must confess I expected to wait on you much longer."

Arya received the candle from Varys' then and held it under her face, feeling the warmth of it's glow. "No one followed me." The Eunuch nodded happily and she asked. "What do you want?" She had feared he would have called in his favor as nothing of note had happened recently, but as she looked into his eyes she knew it was not that.

He procured a small envelope wrapped in red silk and handed it her without breaking eye contact. "This needs to be brought directly to Archmaester Marwyn. It is of absolute importance and urgency."

She flipped the bundle of parchment several times in her hands and asked incredulously. "Do I look like one of your little birds? Do you think I have nothing better to do then deliver your damn notes?" She tossed it back at the plump man and he caught it deftly.

"No, you are all wolf. You've proven that quite well to me. But this is a matter that involves you." He placed it back in her hand and firmly closed her fingers around it. "And from those ungainly things in your hands it seems you're looking for little Lord Rickon. He's with our esteemed mastiff right as we speak."

The Eunuch then reached out into the darkness and pulled a flax haired boy close and whispered in his ear while Arya asked the round man. "What's my brother doing with him?"

"I confess I do not know any specifics, but my greatest guess would be that he is chiding the boy and warning him of the harm that could come from climbing the walls of Maegor's Holdfast to sneak into our Grace's chambers." With a affectionate tap on the shoulder Varys then sent the boy into the darkness to complete the next task assigned to him. "I in all fairness think it beneficial for young boys to learn the dangers of gravity," Arya in response warned the Spider with a sharp glare to finish the comparison he meant to draw with her brother Brandon. "though it affects grown men just as easily does it not? But children will be children and the huddled nobility will play their silly games and it does not take a scholar to tell us which is more dangerous."

"Obviously being born a peasant. I saw more bodies of innocents than nobles when the smoke cleared on our King's great victory." Arya spat while she slipped the note in her boot next to her dagger. "Though I'm sure he didn't pray for those who died because his desire to sit on that damned throne. Averted his eyes from the grieving families of the burning I'll wager."

Varys snickered quietly and seemed to find great amusement in thought of dead children Arya guessed. "I can assure you that he was bleeding and crying for his mother while they carried his body into Maegor's Holdfast. Even louder as the maesters peeled the skin and metal from his body. Only when he saw his predecessor's state did he finally endure in silence ... for a time. And I wouldn't speak so low of him, did he not reconnect you with your family?"

"I reconnected with my family, he had no part to play in that." She then sighed and lowered the candle to her waist, bathing her face in darkness. "Now may I go?"

"As you wish, Wiatt, please escort our friend to the Grand Maester's chambers." On command a bright blue eyed boy stepped out from the darkness to her left and bowed his head to her. Arya then followed the boys lead down a much wider tunnel and over her shoulder she heard the Spider speak. "Take great care with your words around him. You may have the King's and my support, but the man did have to clean two of your messes now and the bitterness of the first will not fade with time I fear."

It mattered little what the old mastiff thought of her, so long as it never progressed farther than simple thoughts or snide comments on his behalf. The path Wiatt led her through was much more pleasant to follow with only three turns and one ladder that led to a dirty and cobweb covered bedchamber. "Where are we?" Arya asked him in vain as she remembered the price each little bird payed for their cageless existent. To her shame he took it with no more offense than she had meant to give and pushed open a dilapidated pair of faded blue shutters that revealed the pale red stone of the Red Keep's inner walls. "Maegor's Holdfast." The room was well sized and not lacking in what one would expect royalty to surround themselves with.  _I'm sure the Grand Maester would have a pleasant time with all these._ Arya mused as she ran her fingertips over the bindings of the countless towers of dusty and ancient looking books and scrolls lining the tables and walls of the room. "Wager how long it's been since anyone has read these?" She asked the boy, but to her surprise he had vanished through a now opened false wall that revealed a much cleaner apartment that she remembered Myrcella living in long ago. 

She then stepped through the wall and studied the room which still contained hanging murals and tapestries of both lion and stag coexisting in lush forests. Still arranged in their no doubt perfect places was a vulgar collection of dolls aligned neatly on the large canopy bed. With still no Wiatt to be found she pushed the wall shut and with great care to not be discovered by an errant servant she left the former princess's old room and made her way towards the Grand Maester's new chambers.

"I-I will do my best ... I swear." Arya heard her brother exclaim as she stopped before the doors of the Mastiff's chambers.

The Stark girl then placed her ear at the door and heard the man respond in a distorted and quiet voice. "I know you will."

"What are you trying to teach my brother, Grand Maester?" Arya asked as she pushed the door open and paced to the side of her brother and the seated old man. "Hopefully nothing our Uncle would disapprove of, if he even knows Rickon is here of course."

"Just discussing the dangers of climbing nine stories over a dry moat of spikes, my dear Lady Stark. I believe that is a reasonable lesson to teach any child, not that it necessarily should need to be taught." Marwyn lectured as Arya casually ignored his stern gaze and mussed her brother's head playfully. "And on the contrary Lord Brynden has already implored me to teach young Rickon here his letters and basic numbers and mathematics."

Meeting eyes with the gruff old man she remembered the kindness he could possess when he desired to. "I'm teaching him just well, but I do appreciate your interest in my family, Grand Maester." Arya informed him with a smile.

"That's what I tried to tell him." Rickon murmured as he twisted out from her grasp.

The man to his credit missed no beat in finding her game and returned back with his own kindly smile. "That is admirable, Lady Stark. But I do feel a man of my learning would be much better suited to this task, though if you do feel differently then I suggest speaking to Lord Tully himself on the matter but in the meantime I shall fulfill his wishes." With a much deeper and dirty toothed grin he added with mirth. "I'm not the Grand Maester, just a simple Archmaester. And until the conclave convenes and chooses old Pycelle's successor, I will simply complete those roles myself. But please call me Marwyn, my child, you need not be formal with me, I won't take offense." He boomed with a great fit of laughter and clutched at his round belly.

"I'm no child ... Marwyn."

He raised one thick eyebrow in response to her and responded flatly. "Forgive me if I am incorrect, my Lady, but you are indeed unmarried, hmm? In many cultures from here to the Summer Isles and to the far off lands of Asshai, neither boys nor girls are considered true adults until they had been joined with another in matrimony."

"She will never marry Edric." Rickon muttered as he grabbed his boots from Arya's hands.

Marwyn with another kindly smile relieved Rickon of his fears. "I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort, dear boy." His eyes creep up from her kneeling brother and met with Arya's own gray. "Though many girls would pull their hairs out to the roots at the prospect of marrying so well."

"But not me." Arya stated with finality and then reached into her bodice and handed the letter over to the Mastiff who silently took it without question on account of the red silk she assumed. After her brother had strapped on his boots she proposed. "Let's say we go find Nym and Shaggy to hunt in the gardens with."

Her brother shook his head furiously and exclaimed. "Shaggy hasn't found anything today, not even a rat. And I still haven't even seen Aegon yet. That was why I tried to climb the tower when the guards wouldn't let me in."

Both of them turned to the old man as he loudly cleared his throat and looked up from the opened letter that shook in his grasp. After giving her back the letter he murmured with a grave and troubled voice. "It's word from the North ... I'm so very sorry for your loss." 


	61. Ghostly Instincts

Jon:

“He’s dead, we need to bury him, Val. We need to bury him in the crypts right next to his father.” Alysane murmured to Val as she rubbed the small of the latter’s back. He wished she wouldn’t cry, she deserved so much more than crying over a stupid man who knew nothing.

“He’s not dead.” His white clad wife sobbed and then furiously wiped her spilled tears off the man’s tired and pale face. “He opened his eyes and looked at me not two days ago. Your healers said he could come back to me still.”

Jon didn’t remember that, he could only remember her cries when the maester’s administered the leeches to remove the rotting flesh. The doors to his chambers open quietly and the flowing robes of the Red Priestess came to view first. It always worried him that no discernible scent announced her arrival, she seemed to travel on a gust of wind with every step she took. “And those grey clad fools would shut their minds to everything not taught to them in their Citadel. They shun every notion that does not mix with their own, so can we truly trust anything they tell us?” Jon let out a small growl but Val clutched at his neck and pulled him closer to her to shush him.

“You’re still here are you? I thought you would have abandoned the castle after your King died.” The She-bear was ever loyal to the Starks and the Starks only he knew greater now … even to Stark bastards.

His wife released the dead man’s hand and placed herself between Alysane and the Red Priestess and she begged the Mormont women. “Please let her speak.” Val then turned to Melisandre and dropped to her knees before her and clutched at her legs. “Are you telling me you can save him?”

The red woman’s smile did Jon no comfort and the sweet words from her mouth did something worse than that. “Perhaps,” Her red eyes moved up from his wife to look at the She-bear who unlike most men was not intimidated by her and she certainly didn’t fear her or anyone for that matter. “And our King is not dead, he will be reborn from the fires of R’hllor and will lead us against the Great Other.”

“And what about his Queen? Will she be reborn just as her husband is? Because all I saw was the flames consume her, not help her.” Jon still remembered how Queen Selyse looked as she sung and smiled before taking her last walk to the pyre. But he could still hear how loud she screamed when the fire first kissed her skin and she realized that it was anything but holy.

Melisandre seemed to expect her to say that and answered calmly with the same thing she assured those who still remained loyal to her. “Her sacrifice will be the flame that ignites the flames of our King’s life and returns him to us. She is sitting at the Lord of Light’s side and basking in the warmth of his fires.”

“But what about Jon? You said you could you save him.” Val begged the red woman again and Jon could not watch her brought so low. He rushed forward and batted his head against her side and whined. “Enough Ghost,” His wife turned to Alysane and she asked her. “Take Ghost and leave us.”

Alysane was conflicted just as Jon was, but she did as she was asked and pulled Jon from the room. “We must store him somewhere much colder than this, just as meat rots in the heat so does human flesh. If you wish to preserve his condition then we must waste no time.”

The She-bear with one last pull took Jon from the room and she shut the door after that. Jon however was not so easily dissuaded and banged his head on the hard oak and iron of the door desperate to get back to his wife's side. “The crypts below the castle.” He heard his wife murmur through the door.

He scratched and pounded on the door for a great time longer, but they ignored his cries and cast him off. The rumbling of his stomach had forced him to remember that even he still had needs and that he still needed to eat. The kitchens still were run just the same as they had been before Stannis’ death. The head cook had seen to feeding Jon the shoulder of an ox after spotting him though he made him eat it in the square with the rest of the beasts.

Jon regretted never being able to finally speak with Lord Wyman, the man had just simply arrived too late. The Lord Lamprey brought and released his captives and thrown himself to whatever justice the other northerners decided, though they were sure to be much more lenient given the foodstuffs he brought with him to supply Winterfell. The rotund man had shed tears and cursed the south for taking another Stark before their time.

“The south shall feel our vengeance in time, Lord Manderly. For your son, my son, and every northern boy they murdered.” The Greatjon had promised in a booming voice.

It was when Jon finally bit down on a hard bone in the shoulder that he took notice of the shivering and tired looking man he had grown from boyhood with. Reek. It had sounded as if Theon had said it in Jon’s own mind, but he hadn’t said in it so many words only with the terrified fear in his eyes.

Jon then had to pull himself away from the intoxicating and succulent meat with all his will battling his body to pad over to Theon who cowered in a dark corner of the courtyard. As he drew nearer and nearer to the broken but once proud man he felt nothing but pity for him. “Please don’t kill me.” Theon begged as he backed himself closer into the shadows. Jon knew that regardless of his hatred for the Greyjoy he could never kill him if wished to. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was wrong, I was always wrong.”

He wished that he could help him, he wished that Theon never betrayed Robb, but most of all he wished that Stannis would have ended Theon’s misery as Asha had begged him to. Jon knew that he couldn’t stay and watch them mourn and that he needed to do something. It was something that he promised many and himself that he would never act on. A vile thing that bred nothing but hatred and pain, but something that he knew would make him feel better for a time. He felt Ghost’s will becoming his own and he knew that the extra time he was given by the Old Gods was not endless, and that meant his time for vengeance and to find Rickon, Sansa, and Arya. Jon just regretted that he would not have enough time to meet his own child … and that he would never be able to watch him grow.

With a loud howl of anger and anguish he pulled away from Theon who had soiled his britches moments earlier and bounded off towards the open gate. He hopped over a group of children playing on the drawbridge and heard Black Donnel scream Ghost’s name from the gatehouse.

He ran passed hundreds of men and women in the winter town. All of them hard at work to make it through winter alive and all of them ignorant to the great coming storm that will roll over everything and anything in it’s way. Far passed the ends of the winter town was the great mass of tents, wooden stakes, and burning fires that made of the new home of those wildlings who followed him south to fight against the Boltons and make a home for themselves. Few men and women took real notice of him and those who did bowed their heads to him in respect.

Jon didn’t know where he planned to go, Riverrun seemed a likely place they would be and if not there then Harrenhal or the Eyrie seemed just as good a place to start his search. He knew above all else knew that Ghost would pick up his siblings scent the closer south he went and that gave him hope he would not fail this time. The kingsroad seemed an easy path to follow and so he ran for a long while, he passed people go both north and south on the road and all fled from him as he ran. Three moons had risen and and four had fallen before he was forced to stop and find refuge under a hill guarded by an ironwood on it’s peak. He’d found a stray ewe hiding in the darkness that hoped to evade him cowering behind a thick root of the ironwood. Ghost however would not let their meal escape them and by the next moon they had picked her bones clean and left the cave for the kingsroad.

It was during a heavy windstorm that he picked up the scent of a dozen or so men, hunters or disgruntled owners of the ewe he guessed. He cursed himself not for discovering them sooner as he had endangered the both of them and he knew that he couldn’t keep to the kingsroad while they tracked him. Ghost had led them to a great marsh expanse that covered for as far as they could see and Jon hoped that it would be enough to dissuade his pursuers from tracking him.

Sadly it did little to stop them and did nothing but anger them as Jon had nearly avoided their arrows several times that day and only when the night fell did they give up chase. Ghost whined and fought with Jon to keep them going and get as far away from them as possible but Jon could hardly keep his eyes open from the exhaust in their body. He found refuge for the night and it’s creatures in a cave connected to a lagoon off the main marsh and to his luck it’s past inhabitants were long dead and rotted. Some of the deceased in the cave had sprouted arrows from their bodies and Jon figured that they had to be Ironborn from their shields and as he had not heard of any great battles in the Neck.

Ghost had begged him several times through the night to not let them go to rot and fill their belly, but Jon could not bring himself to that level even as his belly cried out in hunger. After sleep had stolen his mind he was woken to the shock of several hunters crowding around him all armed with spears and knifes.

“I told you we should have killed him, not capture him!” Screamed a man that looked at the same age as Jon himself. He looked ready to turn tail and run after Jon turned to him and growled.

“This catch will net us enough coin to move south for the winter,” Argued a balding man who tossed a net at Jon that would have caught him had he not bolted away from them and out of the cave.

“Don’t let him escape again, you dim shits!” Roared a hunter from behind Jon in the cave. Jon however wouldn’t let himself fall prey to them and leap over a pitfall trap they had set and landed on a blonde haired boy. Jon hoped to scare the boy off the chase by putting the fear of death in his heart, but another of the hunters felt nothing of that sort and planted a spear shallowly in his side. Jon yelped in pain and hopped off the boy and landed in the thick mud of the swamp and back away from the group of roughly a dozen men and three women.

“Make your throws count.” Advised the apparent leader of the hunters who wore a dark leather cap and sheepskin cloak. One of his hunters did not heed his advice and charged forward with his spear raised hoping to skewer Jon. In response he bit down on the haft of the man’s spear and tossed him around and into the deepest part of the swamp.

Before another could make their move towards him the blonde boy from earlier screamed out in pure terror. “It’s lizard-lion!” Jon spun around on his heels and backed away from the muck just as a mud covered jaw snapped around a hunter’s leg. Just as the captured man screamed out in pain did the scaled monster twist under the mud and take the hunter with him.

“Run!” Screamed a strawberry haired women who then threw her spear into the mud and fled deeper into the dark woods. Before the hunter’s leader turned tail himself an even larger monster with dark brown scales flew from the mud with surprising speed and tore the man’s arm from his shoulder.

It didn’t take Ghost’s instincts to tell them him that he had to flee and so he took their lead and sped off in whatever direction wasn’t near the so called ‘lizard-lions’. He had the not the faintest idea where he was as he ran and nothing guided him but the screams of men and women in his wake. In his haste he leaped a tall standing of reeds and landed with a plop and stumble in thick trench of swamp land inhabited by an even larger lizard-lion than before. It’s roar was horrible sound and Ghost jumped over it as it snapped at him and latched onto it’s thick and meaty hind leg and tore a bloody gash in it.

“Another one over here!” Screamed a bearded child from the banking above Ghost and on his call several more children armed with heavy nets and bronze spears descended into the muck. A hooded child ran up the scaled monster’s back and planted his spear deep into it’s back and then leap off as it tried to strike back at him. As it tried to charge towards it’s human assailant the other children threw their nets to save their comrade and tangled up it’s legs. While they fought and skirmished with the roaring beast the wolf loosened his bite on the beast’s leg and bounded up the bank rolling over anything in his path.

“Catch the wolf.” Ordered one of the children in a deeper voice than Ghost thought possible for a child. He again sprinted off through hanging vines, soft dirt, and mud puddles in search of a world that he recognized. Ghost found no such land as he fled across a clearing towards a collection of floating hovels on a murky river. Against Jon’s better instincts he did not stop before the elbow of the river and instead leaped onto the thatching of reed and wood causeways that made up the floor between each hovel on the moving island.

Ghost could hardly keep his balance as he stood on the thatching and likened it the feeling he suffered earlier as a child when trying to stand on a riverboat. “Merlyn go fetch the fishing line.” The dire wolf heard a women call from within the hovel.

In a great haste not to be discovered Jon bounded through an open door to one of the hovels and hid within. A cooked and steaming frog was placed ensnaringly on the hut’s sole table which was not a table at all but a huge stump as wide as a trio of horses. He could smell a boy hiding under one of the four beds that lined the walls of the hovel and as long as he didn’t make a sound Ghost would pretend he didn’t know he was there. First he swallowed down the chewy green animal on the table and began to lap at the contents of the cold gourd of water hidden away in the corner. “Help, help, it’s a monster!” Screamed the boy as he ran out of the hut.

 _Look at us, we are becoming a monster._ Jon realized as he stared down at their reflection in the water. His once shining white fur was now dyed red near his mouth and his mane was a collective mess of dirt and muck from the marshes with sticks and branches all tangled together. _Only our eyes remain._ They both realized as their red eyes peered back at them equally as deep. It was a loud ringing of bells that brought him back from his wanderings. We have to keep moving, Ghost.

To his luck not a soul was waiting to ambush him as he slid out of the hovel and paced down the row of huts. As they both studied the mind boggling construction the people of the neck had accomplished Jon spotted on the far off horizon a sight as grand to Jon as the first time he spotted the Wall.

“It’s the monster!” Shouted a woman wielding a long handled cleaver that struck just short of Jon’s neck. He saw no way out of the maze of floating huts outside of swimming and with more and more children running from their homes to see the ‘monster’ he accepted nothing less than that. With one final look at astounding castle of wood, vines, and reeds floating before the dawn he launched himself into the murky water.

Only when trying to pull himself back up from the depths of the freezing cold water to fresh air did he realize his mistake. “It trapped itself in the fishing nets.” Exclaimed a wizened voice distorted by the water. Ghost with all his might fought and kicked and bit at the net trying to rip through it to his freedom but the thick wire did not give and bit into their flesh as punishment for struggling.

 _I’m sorry, Ghost. Now not only did I ruin my life, but now I’ve gone and ended yours too._ Jon apologised to his most faithful companion as spots of white began to blur their vision. _They’ve come to watch the monster gasp it’s last breath._ Above the water's surface Jon saw many faces of grown men and women peering down from the edge of their floating village with looks of shock and revulsion. _We’ll be with father, Robb, and your siblings soon. It will just like be falling asleep._ Jon promised and prepared to close his eyes permanently for the second time in his life.

But with a great heave and pull he was flung back onto the thatching of the floating village. He then sputtered and coughed out what felt like half the damned river as a short man with a greying mud brown goatee stepped forward from the circle of spear and bow armed people surrounding Jon. The apparent leader of the men kneeled close to Jon then with no fear obvious in his intelligent green eyes. “He’s no monster, he’s a dire wolf.” The man explained to his people as he patted Jon’s head and then cleaned some of the muck from his fur.

“Like the one King Robb had?” Asked a pale girl armed with a bow and black tipped arrows who had heavy age marks around her eyes.

“Our King’s dire wolf was named Grey Wind and I don’t remember him being as pale as this one is.” Argued a bearded child with a dual pronged spear.

The green eyed leader of the mudmen pulled the net off Jon and locked eyes with him for a brief moment before his eyes rolled up into his skull. What is your name? Jon heard the man speak to him not from his lips but from within Jon’s own mind.

Jon didn’t know how it was possible or by what trickery or magic the man practiced to worm into his mind, but he knew that the man was not to be trifled with. _Jon Snow, and my father was Lord Eddard Stark._

The man’s body stood still as an oak and after an excruciating pause the man spoke from within again. _Thank you._ Without wasting another second the man’s green eyes snapped back to life and he ordered his people with a firm voice. “Lower your weapons, my friends. We are in the presence of a warg.” The man licked the salt from his lips in thought while his people did as he bid. Jon wagered the man was hardly taller than five feet tall and looked to be of age with his father if not slightly older. “And not just any warg, but a Stark.” The people around him all gasped and dropped their weapons to the ground and were followed by their knees soon after as they bowed before him. “My name is Howland Reed, Jon Snow. Welcome to Greywater Watch; the heart of the Neck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot different than most of my chapters, I'm usually pretty dialogue heavy but this time I had to step out of my comfort zone to right this. Hope it wasn't too hard to follow and if it was just ask and I'll do my best to clear up whatever problems you're having.
> 
> Remember to leave a review if you can as it really helps me persevere when I run into a wall with my writing. But if you don't have time or don't have anything to really say than that's fine too as lord knows I go through the same thing when I read some stories.
> 
> Next chapter will be the rejoining of Aegon's inner circle and the reveal of their purpose going forward along with WIllas Tyrells first appearance in the story.


	62. Winds of Winter

Aegon:

The soft rhythmic thud of a walking cane stirred him from his midday daze and he quickly downed the once cold but now warm water that was set before him. He pushed himself higher in his seat and erected his back to acceptable posture just before the doors swung open and two brown haired and golden eyed men let themselves in. The older one walked with a blackened cane carved of ash in his right hand that drew immediate attention to the mangled leg under him. His lanky and spindly torso gave away his disposition to more scholarly ventures such as reading. The second man was of a much stronger and fit form than the first and had the movements of a formidable warrior undeterred by the misfortune suffered by his elder brother. "Please sit." Aegon asked and consequently watched as they took the seats opposite of him. The lamer of the two had taken the chair Aegon had pulled away from the table earlier and let loose a sigh as his bottom hit the soft pillow placed on the hard stone. "Welcome brothers."

"The crown suits you." Willas Tyrell admired with the same smile that Aegon remembered so fondly from his days at spent at Highgarden. "You look just like an illustration out of a history tome come to life."

He surmised they were right, or at least outwardly in terms of appearance. "You're late. Both of you." Garlan was the first to attempt to open his mouth while Willas simply held his peace. "I waited at Harrenhal for your word, I waited at Riverrun for your word, I waited at Harrenhal again, and finally I waited outside of King's Landing and froze in the snow for ten days ... and still I heard nothing but the wind."

"Do you think we did it on purpose? If you haven't noticed we are being attacked on every coast from Old Oak to Oldtown day and night by the cursed Ironborn." Garlan argued with merit and fervor that reminded Aegon of the High Sparrow's many banterings. "With every passing day Euron Greyjoy gets closer and closer to attacking Oldtown. We at most have two moons before they strike the city and that's being optimistic."

Before Aegon could reply Marwyn entered the room and closely behind him was Aurane Velaryon who was short of being Aegon's own mirrored image by the beard on the admiral's jaw and his seafoam green eyes. "And what harm will them sacking Oldtown bring us? Everything of real value is either well hidden or has already been removed from the pirate's reach." Marwyn informed them as he placed two flagons of wine on the table and took the seat to Aegon's immediate left. "I made sure of that before I left."

"I disagree." Willas murmured. "My aunt Malora will not abandon the Hightower or her books for anything, even the threat of death does not shake her."

Velaryon reached over and seized the flagon of dornish sour for himself and filled his crystal goblet to the brim while listening closely. "Oh there is no threat of death, Lord Tyrell I can promise you that. Euron is feared as nothing less than a deathdealer to those unfortunate enough to cross paths with the man. Many villages east of Valyria run and pray to their gods at the mere mention of his 'Silence' believe me." The man waited until his drink was close enough to kiss and held it suspended before adding. "And I mean no disrespect, but she is nothing more than a disposable piece on our board to us now ... no more use than a crossbowman in a friendly game of cyvasse."

"Watch yourself, Lord Velaryon. She's been playing for our cause long before you were ever weaned." Garlan exclaimed with a quiet fury that begged to be challenged.

Aegon however was in no mood for listening to petty squabbles and chest thumping when so many opportunities were waiting to be seized and benefited from. "I assure you that her fate is in her own hands, and if she wishes to tempt it against Euron Greyjoy then she may do so. I mean no disrespect or to sound ungrateful for her part, but the world will not stop for her and neither should we.

"You are not incorrect, but are we not forgetting our goal? Oldtown is the most populous city in all of the Seven Kingdoms and we cannot allow it to fall." Willas' words did not fail their purpose of striking at Aegon's heart.

Marwyn though was not dissuaded and exclaimed with little care or emotion evident in his tone. "At worse a fifth of the city will die if the defenders fail which is much less than a mild winter would have taken. And I for one will not miss the grey sheep Euron will kill and our new world won't either."

The sixth man made no sounds as he entered and was quiet as a crypt until sitting to Aegon's right. Only the smell of lilacs were only discernible feature the King could pick up from a primal stance. "If you think these ...  _grey sheep_  as you so call them will die along with the city you are fooling yourself, Archmaester Marwyn. They've had hundreds of years to plan for this very event and have no doubt constructed escape routes no different from those in the Red Keep."

"So good of you to join us, Lord Varys." Said Willas Tyrell.

Marwyn grunted out a small laugh and replied. "A man can hope and dream, no?"

"No ... we men cannot. Hope is for those unwilling to reach for what they want. These last few years of war have shown us all exactly what happens when men rely on solely on good thoughts and hope in place of action and conviction." Aegon stated firmly to them and then he turned his gaze to the Spider. "I assume our esteemed Magister has been held up?"

Varys nodded and poured a paltry amount of wine into his goblet. "Illyrio must be with us in spirit I'm afraid. Many situations in Essos have changed of late and he is ensuring the Golden Company make it to Slaver's Bay."

"With what terms?" Aegon asked.

The Eunuch squirmed in his chair and meekly spoke. "Joint leadership. We felt it would be the best way to ensure cooperation and consolidation of power between both parties."

"And to make her think twice about refuting his claim in favor of hers." Willas inferred and the room nodded in agreement except for the man at its head.

 _Look look Aunty. He's an army to fix your mess and look at what I've done ... want half?_ Aegon mused to himself and cleared his throat before he gave his affirmation. "If it brings her and her dragons to our side then I'm willing to compromise. If she's willing to make some concessions herself that is."

"I still must question the foolish notion that we need to pace ourselves." Aurane exclaimed in genuine annoyance that Aegon partly shared with him.

Willas calmly explained it in ways that Aegon found only he could. "Even the Conqueror and his sisters had need of their children to shape the kingdoms in their image, Lord Velaryon. And their dragons were greater than those we have access to now."

"Sadly even after the Faith Militants' rise against King Maegor the land was much more stable than it is now." Varys added.

"Regardless of our differing opinions of what and what isn't needed, the outcome is dependant on this girl's response and I suggest we hold off cutting each other's throats until she responds." Marwyn stated before downing his first goblet of wine.

A short silence then took hold of the room and seeing a chance to state his thoughts Willas Tyrell did just that. "When will we be holding the wedding. I think it best to-to ... well to be crude for you to put a baby in Margaery quickly. It will inspire our allies and dissuade our enemies from plotting too audaciously knowing that a Tyrell and Targaryen heir is looming and to prove without any doubts that the Targaryen line is still strong." As Willas said it Aegon felt the room's tension rise tenfold and all eyes short of Varys and Garlan looked to anything not Willas.

"The wedding would have taken place many moons ago at Harrenhal had you followed the plan, Lord Tyrell." Said Marwyn.

Garlan spoke in place of his brother and did so with the fire and conviction that the latter lacked. "As we've said before we were otherwise engaged. And it was not the right time to end father's rule. Lord Tarly acted at the perfect opportunity and tarnished the reputation of whatever remnants of Robert Baratheon's kingship remained. Even now is there any real suspicion that someone other than Jaime Lannister killed our father?"

Aurane then grunted out in anger and nearly toppled his goblet when he slammed his fist on the burnished table. "Your perfect moment? No that was when we took the city by force and made you act!"

"And did it not all work out for the best?" Screamed back Garlan who jumped to his feet and succeeded in spilling his wine. "As we speak all shreds of power the Lannisters once held is gone and in it's place we've filled the void without fail and we've lost nothing."

"Nothing? We've lost nothing?" Aegon asked in a red rage. "I watched both Lord Bracken and Lord Blackwood fall before my very eyes! I felt their blood on my face and tasted it on my lips all because you waited for your  _perfect moment_." He bit his lip in anger and stood up from his seat. "Look at my face, I'm a grotesque monster and farce of humanity ... all because you needed your perfect moment."

"There's nothing wrong with your face." Garlan foolishly countered.

It had taken all his will not to toss himself from the parapets on the day he'd finally woken from his agony induced coma and was shown his face. It was nothing but a horrible mess of bone and flesh burned down to red muscle and discolored by the metal of his armor.  _We can save your face ... if you're willing to sacrifice that is._ Marwyn had whispered to him and tearfully Aegon had agreed to whatever sacrifice was needed. Only when they brought in the peaceful little lion with blonde curls and chubby red cheeks did he know what would be required. Only when they begun to butcher the little lion like a goat did he realize the new depths that he could reach. And only when the candles were lit and he heard the boy cry out for his mother did Aegon remember what he truly desired.

It was a simple thing to let the mask slip which made it all too easy to forget the cost paid for the greatest lie to fool the world. All too easy to let a glamour not of any material made by man slip, but a glamour made of blood and fire. He'd never let it slip before anyone other than Marwyn and the evasive looks now given made him feel he was right to never let it slip again. Both Garlan and Aurane could not meet his gaze while Willas studied him and Varys simply stared through him in disgust not at his face but for the manner in which he masked himself. "Behold the true face of your King ... with a face straight from the tales of monsters."

"Blood magic." Willas admired as Aegon once more masked himself. "How long will it last?"

"Until his last breath." Marwyn explained with genuine pride at the culmination of his life's studies. "Better than anything those assassin's could achieve as it can't be looked through or passed." The old man then shot a short smile to Varys who still wouldn't acknowledge his work.

"Will he ever age?" Garlan asked now able to look Aegon in the eye without going pale from disgust.

"Yes, physically it just seems my aging will be delayed by several years, but it will happen eventually if our thoughts are correct." Aegon responded before taking his seat again. "So raise your glasses to Tommen. And you asked me when the wedding will take place, yes? Well that time has long passed until the High Sparrow expires as he has excommunicated her and will declare my right to rule unholy if I marry without his express consent."

Willas nodded his understanding and made Aegon wonder what thoughts were running through his friend's mind as he asked. "And does that mean you will marry Arianne Martell instead?"

Aegon however had no answers for Willas and simply held his silence which allowed Garlan to state. "You have no cause to marry her, Doran Martell is your uncle and as such he owes you his loyalty. Does he hold such small affection for his sister's memory to haggle his own nephew for his support just to secure more power?"

"I personally doubt the loyalty and trustworthiness of Dorne in the best of times. Even should he foolishly marry Arianne I wouldn't trust them not to stick him in the back after his first son by that harlot is born. Furthermore I must agree with Ser Garlan as what can they truly do to us should we turn them down?" Marwyn asked.

"Not that I advocate the idea of marrying her ... but I do question the possibility of them filling Princess Daenerys' head with lies and fallacies to make her side against us should we provoke them. She seems every bit a leader as Princess Nymeria was and should we not worry that Dorne will prefer the idea of a queen so as to marry Quentyn to the throne should we turn them down?" Aurane reasonably asked the assembled men.

"I doubt it." Aegon said and then looked to Varys for confirmation. "Did you not tell me that she had turned down Quentyn to marry some Meereenese noble to save her freed slaves?"

The Spider nodded and Aurane stated with confusion evident. "Then why did we send her an offer if she has decided to lock herself in Slaver's Bay? The peasants and nobles alike will not accept her guidance or presence should she come to us married to some foreign slaver. And their opinions will be generous compared to the storm that the High Septon will raise."

"I've found that one is only married when their spouse still draws breath." Varys informed simply and the room seemed to be in acceptance from how Aegon could see it.

"If she is as impressionable and prone to emotions as you all say then should one of us not go to her personally to appeal to her?" Willas asked. "Mayhaps Lord Aurane or Lord Varys would be suited best for this task in their own ways."

"Absolutely not. I mean no offense Aurane but you tend to be more ... blunt, shall we say in your words than you actually mean and we cannot afford to give her any reason to take offense. And Varys you must stay here to keep everyone of those schemers in check and worried, not to mention that rash little she-wolf." Marwyn spat and Aegon still found it a tad amusing how strongly he detested the girl and jumped to point out every flaw she made while ignoring her positives as if his next breath counted on it.

"Which is why I must again insist we rid ourselves of her before she becomes a problem." Varys added and Aegon felt a flash of anger rise in his belly at how easily they talked of killing her for a crime she hadn't committed simply because they feared her capable of it. "It would be most trivial to accomplish. We could make it look as if she disappeared to the wind again, just as she had before."

"Absolutely not. It disgusts me that you would even think of such things. Do we not condemn and punish men who speak and act on such thoughts? Are we no better than Tywin or Robert Baratheon?" Aegon lambasted them and only Varys sought to look ashamed while Marwyn proved much more honest and barely blinked an eye at Aegon's accusation.

"And will we not speak of where her true loyalties lie? Will we not acknowledge just where she spent her time during the war?" Marwyn waited for either Varys, Aurane, or Aegon to respond and when none did he answered his own question for the Tyrells. "The Faceless Men sent her to keep a close watch on us, and the moment we step out of line she will slit our throats in our sleep. I say we should strike before she can even act and remove all risk. If we act tonight than no suspicion will even be aimed at us, we can launch the strongest of investigations on the morn and hold trials for the next moon over on everyone and anyone who's displeased us."

Aegon grew annoyed that Marwyn would bring up that fallacy again while attempting to instill his fears into them all. "Her mind suggested nothing of any plot to harm me. Just some minor thoughts of critique at worse." Though in truth the darkest parts of her head were quite a distressing and hostile pit of lingering mysteries. The good however were something else and in particular the memories she had before Eddard Stark accepted his post as Hand were some he frequently found himself thinking back to at night along with the personal stories she told him herself.

"But her loyalty and even ability to cooperate with us is suspect in every way. She thinks of herself and her family above all else and nothing of the future of the Seven Kingdoms or it's people." Varys argued with the same fervor that Aegon had come to expect after ordering him to bring her around to their way of thinking.  _You won't live forever._  Aegon had painfully pointed out and Varys had taken it with every bit of insult not intended.

"She knows that I owe her my favor and she's not stupid. Only a simpleton of the lowest standing would squander what she possesses now."

"Aye, she's not stupid. Just too clever for her own good." Varys conceited.

Garlan tapped his knuckles off the table and asked a question long overdue. "So I take that as you mean to go north next ... and not south." The man did not hide his disappointment in the slightest.

"Stannis is dead and the North is without a leader. The northerners will have little choice but to follow Rickon now and I will look all the part of a hero for saving him." Aegon explained calmly as his mind drifted to the rambunctious ball of energy. "Their admiration will serve our purpose in the short term."

Willas rubbed his brow thoughtfully and murmured. "We'll need much more than the remnants of Robb Stark's army to stop them."

"You're right, we need  _each_  of the Seven Kingdoms united and aimed at our common enemy. And that includes the Reach, Willas." Aegon stated with confidence.

"But can the North not wait? You have the Stark boy under your control and he won't be going anywhere." Garlan said.

Marwyn then pointed out a primary fear that many of Aegon's councilors worried of, but not one he himself held. "Should we wait too long then we run the risk of the northerners choosing a distant cousin of the Starks and declaring him heir. Especially should their replacement favor the idea of a Kingdom of the North rather than following Rickon's lead of bending to Aegon."

"I was surprised not to see your Hand joining us today." Willas blurted out with misty eyes that hid the true intelligence he possessed. "You wrote to me not long ago that he seemed to be aligned with our ideals."

"Lord Tyrion's loyalty is highly suspect of late I'm afraid." Varys pointed out. "Just before they marched on King's Landing Tyrion had convinced the Martells to bring Myrcella to Harrenhal and he used Aegon's name to acheive it. Needless to say he put us in a most unfavorable light with some of more vengeance seeking Lords."

Willas broke a small smile and then locked his golden eyes with Aegon's violet. "It sounds to me like he outplayed you."

"He did, and not the first time either." Aegon begrudgingly admitted his second loss to the Imp. He hated to lose, despised it, cursed it, and upon tasting defeat for the first time in his life many years ago he knew that the taste of victory was so much sweeter. He often wondered at night when he struggled to sleep whether it was the fact that he lost that he hated or that to lose he needed to admit that another beat him and was better than him.

"I don't even know why you've allowed the Imp to keep his head, it's so much easier to simply start over with a child that we can mould to our thoughts than to convince a man partly grown." Aurane complained just as he slipped one of his many foreign coins from his purse to toy with it. "What was the name of that boy you've stowed away, our original choice?"

"Tyrek, son of Tygett Lannister." Varys answered. "Illyrio has kept him most content at his manse and will continue to until we have no further need of him."

"Aye, that was it, the Wet Nurse." Aurane chuckled under his breath. "I seem to remember us agreeing that those who could not be reasoned with or bought were to be removed and in their place we would place children who we could educate to our ideals and goals?"

A laugh nearly escaped Aegon's lips himself at the very notion of the most greed oriented of their group speaking so highly of ideals. Aegon still remembered Aurane's asking price to betray his brother's, still remembered meeting the man for the first time five years ago in the ruins Spicetown. How strange it was for a man to betray the very ones who loved and raised him simply for his own ambition.  _I want to be given Driftmark, it should be mine by right. I'm the most worthy of all father's children and the only one who can return our house to the heights achieved by the Seasnake himself. Give me all that and promise to return our fleet to its prime and I swear to you that I will be undyingly loyal to you and your children until my very last breath. And I swear on the very sand under our feet that I will sail further than the Seasnake ever dreamed and bring back such unheard of treasures and riches that we will never have need to beg this lord or that ever again._

"Speaking of children, Lord Velaryon, how was it that you secured us Edric Storm? I've heard nothing but the boy being captured, what about those sent with him to Lys?" Garlan asked and Aegon wished he hadn't.

"Your aunt's lover was most helpful in that matter actually. His men helped me scour the city and after a few bronze ladies passed into some city guards' hands we found a little house on the southern tip on the island." Aegon remembered the women being named Lynesse Hightower and of Varys informing him of her former husband being a stalwart companion in Daenerys' inner circle. He wondered briefly at that time of how long the woman's hold over the old Merchant Prince would last, be it until her beauty faded or his life does. "As far as Edric knows they're still in Lys enjoying all the comforts the city has to offer." Aurane again showed his pittance care towards their true ideals as he darkly snickered at the memories of his actions. "But we gave a satchel full of rocks to Andrew Estermont and those still loyal to Stannis and gave them a watery send off near the docks."

"Don't you think he will ask questions and wonder where they are one day?" Garlan wondered. "They are the same men who saved him from being sacrificed by his uncle. He won't just forget about them."

Aurane shrugged his shoulders and made Aegon wish he had instructed him to capture them. "Ed will think they moved onto another city and will forget about them in time." Aurane stated confidently as he played with the outrageous feather of orange and blue adorning his tricorn.

"Show them." Aegon asked Marwyn who in response stood and walked to the far wall of the chamber and pulled the dirty coverings from the obsidian candles. The Targaryen took great notice of how each and every man reacted upon seeing them, each man absent of Varys leaned closer to them in great fascination like a moth to the flame. "They react most strongly to those with king's blood in them." Aegon murmured as he felt the familiar burning sensation in his body as if he stepped too close to an open fire. "They hold incredible power, so be wary of them. They're a deceptive lover in their nature."

"Which is why we must shun them, the realm can not afford another Targaryen to lose his mind." Varys begged Aegon but the latter could care less for the pleas of one who irrationally shunned all the darker powers could offer.

"Without their power the Stark boy would still be lost to the wind." Marwyn argued as his hand toyed with the sharps prongs adorning the green candles peak. "Not to mention that our King would be dead if we shunned what they offer us."

"But using them to simply steal a man's thoughts is reckless. We have need of him for more than ten years and at the rate you're using them his mind will break in half that time." Varys added with true empathy and care hanging in his voice that took Aegon momentarily aback.

The Dragon King however bit his lip and swallowed down whatever he felt, as good kings cannot rely on emotion, only logic. "Don't speak about me as if I'm not here. If you can  _see_  what it does to me then how do you think it effects me? And even for all your skill you can't know everything at once as you've admitted. But with these I can see every right, every wrong, every lie, every truth, and the world at its truest form."  _A world without pain, without hatred, a world without loss._ "To achieve that I will withstand any amount of pain because I can take it and I will."

"And what are these drawbacks specifically." Willas asked having not taken his golden eyes off the candles once since they were unveiled. "Be honest."

"It's every bit as viceful as wine, women, and coin." Aegon murmured as he to felt his eyes drawn to the black candles emptied pools.

Marwyn then mournfully tossed the coverings back on the candles and the room all sat back in their seats when he did. "I've come to believe in the recent days that these items are the ancient power the valyrians once used to create and control their great freehold. Reading the contents of a man's mind is just scratching the surface of what these can accomplish."

Willas as sharp as ever latched onto Marwyn's way of thinking and finished for him. "You think that these were the cause of the Doom then. Both the cause of the Freeholds rise ... and its eventual destruction."

"Indirectly." Marwyn stated with a quick glance to Varys who squirmed in his seat. "If the masters of the candles had been acting as a sort of dam holding back the flood of what the valyrians had sowed. And if there was no one left to feed the candles and keep them lit who's to say it wasn't a plot by someone who had reason to hate the Dragonlords and had the means to accomplish vengeance."

 _Obey this one's terms and the gift will be spared on a man._ Aegon still heard the sickly sweetness of the man's voice even now. "To accomplish their vengeance and give their gift to the world they woke the stone dragons."

"And the ground split and spewed fire, ash, and death evermore." Willas ended before downing the wine in his goblet. It had brought up a sobering fact to the room that the Dragonmont was only a stone's throw away from them as they spoke.

The time though had grown late around them and Aegon felt his own mood sour upon thinking of how long they had been cooped up only conversing when so much still needed to be done. "All of you leave Willas and I to ourselves. We need to speak alone." Everyone then took on looks on confusion and no doubt wondered what they had done to offend. "Lord Varys, make sure Arya Stark keeps her calm and doesn't kill anyone. Aurane, you go and keep Harrold busy and away from whores until his wife arrives on the morrow." After the room had finally cleared leaving only the two men together another uncomfortable silence took hold of the room. In that time they studied each other and dared the other to make the first move. "If you would have turned cloak faster we would have been brothers by marriage right now." Aegon murmured under his breath hoping the Lord of Highgarden didn't hear him.

"But I wasn't the only one who forget my side of the bargain was I?"

Aegon stood up from his chair and paced over to the open window of the meeting hall. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He heard Willas chuckle from behind him and mention. "You were to take Sansa Stark into your custody after Margaery's wedding. And we were supposed to blame Joffrey's death on Tyrion and let him lose his head for it while you freed Sansa to be married to me."

"And that was what I was going to do, but damn Baelish mucked all that up didn't he? I wasn't the only one he outplayed in that though was I? Your grandmother let it happen just as much as I did." Even as he said it truly wondered in his heart what would have happened had he succeeded in taking Sansa.  _Would I have had the will to sell her off to another man no matter how good?_ The scion of house Targaryen could see a group of children playing far below the tower tossing balls of snow at each other in a game of playful warfare. "After I saw what love she had for Harrold I couldn't stomach ruining a good thing she had found for herself after everything the Lannisters had done to her."

"Yet you let her go through with the marriage all the same. You knew what he was and how unhappy he would ultimately make her, but to punish her you let her hang herself on her naivete instead of saving her from it." Willas sounded disappointed as he spoke and Aegon couldn't say he felt differently with himself when he thought hard about it.

"It was her choice, Willas. I warned her that it was a mistake and gave her one last chance before the bedding. In return she advised me to shove my offer up my arse." He defended himself just as the smallest boy below the window was hit with a snowball to the chin from a playfriend. "Was I supposed to tell her no like she was a child and lock her up in a tower somewhere? She is a grown woman and can make all the mistakes she wants, just now she needs to deal with her husband's too."  _Just like my mother and sister suffered for my father's._  "Your grandmother learned that very same lesson when she was Sansa's age did she not? I seem to remember hearing of your Grandfather being followed by the same reputation as our Lord Arryn."

The Lord of Highgarden coolly ignored the question and struck at Aegon's one weakness, his conscience. It was the worst weakness for any king to have Marwyn always told him and it only figured it would be one he would possess. "Is it not our desire to ultimately save Westeros from it's greatest enemy? You just wanted to punish her, so everytime she sees you and you see her you will have a feeling of moral and mental superiority." Willas shook his head and made Aegon feel very much like a child when he did. "See how right I was and how very wrong you are?" He mimicked Aegon and then sighed in true disappointment that he had not heard since he was a child in the garden.

"Can teaching someone an important lesson and punishing them not be the same thing? In her case they are as I look at it."  _Would she have been any happier should I have made her my queen than she is now?_   _Would she be happy to be married to a cripple like you?_  As he thought it he knew he shouldn't have, WIllas had been nothing but a brother to him, a confidante who never judged him and only made him look deeper at himself. He would always force him to face whatever reflection he made be it good or evil that stared back at him and challenge him to either change himself or embrace it for the better.

Willas' silent response told Aegon far more than he wished to hear and in response he turned towards the door and prepared to leave. "Well what have you decided?"

Aegon stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the crippled man who in that moment looked weaker than anything he'd ever seen before in his life. "Like I told you, I haven't decided."

"Liar, I know you have. You never were one who took long to make up your mind, you were actually quite the opposite and fancied torturing yourself over if the decision you made was the right one or not." His golden eyes seemed to smile at Aegon and they somehow warmed the very cold and distant room. "I have no need of any magic candles to read you, Egg."

A small chuckle left his lips and it was a sound that he missed hearing from himself. "Easy to read as a book am I?"

"No, I'd compare you more to book with foreign words. It may take me longer to find the gist, but eventually it lends me all it's secrets over time if I'm willing to work for them." Willas laughed as he pushed on his cane with great exertion to return to his feet. "I can offer you fifteen thousand men and no more until the pirate has been dealt with."

As Willas hobbled passed him Aegon felt a cold chill rise in his spine and he wondered if it would truly be enough. "Thank you brother, they won't be wasted I assure you." The Lord of Highgarden said no more as he joined with and was flanked by his bodyguards as they set off down the hall leaving the King feeling more alone now than ever. Looking down at the bottom of the doors he spotted a dirty beast of black fur that was no higher than his shin. "I'm not looking for a friend." Aegon told it as it brushed up against his leg. In response to his words it hummed its happiness and looked up at him with intelligent green eyes. With great care Aegon picked it up and held him close to his chest. "You're not the killer everyone says you are." The Targaryen exclaimed as he examined the cat's mangled ear. "Though you certainly look like you've seen your fair share of wars. Came out much better than I have anyway."

"Let's go back inside, it's freezing out here!" Aegon heard a child cry from outside the castle.

He then put the cat back down and watched as it strut away looking all the same as his Nightdreamer once did as a small whelp.  _It would have been nice to have you with me in the North. Gods know I'll need all the warmth I can get._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review if you can or want to, I always like to discuss anything with my readers.
> 
> if you were wondering what Aegon's real face looks like I imagined something like Red Skull but with bits of burnt skin and metal still clinging in places.
> 
> Recently looking through the list of people who've bookmarked and noticed I have BlueCichlid as a reader ... so does that mean I'm in the upper class of writers in this fandom because I feel like it now, lol.
> 
> Also unlikely that I'll have another chapter for you guys until after new years so have a good christmas if you celebrate it and thank you to all who have supported me and enjoyed this little tale I've crafted over these last few months.


	63. Lady of the Court

Sansa:

 

"Lady Sansa, wake up we're almost there." Sansa heard a distant voice call out to her from the darkness but she wasn't ready. Her bed was too comfortable and the furs were too warm for her to leave them for King's Landing of all places. "There are so many buildings, and they look so pretty under the snow." Bethany admired dreamily just as a cold breeze swept through the wheelhouse. The Stark did not doubt Bethany had opened the windows to gain a better sight. Sadly after the wheelhouse hit a deep hole on the road and nearly tossed her from bed she knew that she had no choice but to wake.

"Close the window, it's freezing." She murmured as she kicked her legs free of the furs. Bethany's own face looked to have taken notice of the frost and without hesitation she obeyed her.

The lady of the Vale's handmaiden Gretchel quickly hopped to her feet upon seeing her lady wake and stood at attention. "I tried to tell her M'lady."

 _And she ignored you like Arya would have at her age._ The red headed Stark swung her feet over the bed and stepped into a warm pair of rabbit slippers. As she shuffled over to a chest containing a fair collection of her warmer garments she did not miss what an exceptional job the cold did in masking the unholy stench of the city. "What should I choose today, Bethany? Do you like blue or gray better?"

Bethany bounded off from the window seat and slid under Sansa's arm to looked over the collection of wool and velvet dresses. "I like white and black." The girl announced as Sansa fussed with the sloppy stitching Gretchel had done on Bethany's own dress of burgundy and cream.

"Gray it is." She murmured as she picked up the folded garment and stepped over to a full length looking glass that dominated a corner of the wheelhouse. "Did you make breakfast?" Sansa asked her handmaiden as she pulled down the straps of her sleeping gown and let it drop to the floor.

"Mychel said it best to eat when we arrive and not stay on the roads any longer than we had to." Gretchel announced as she picked up Sansa's discarded gown. "I saved some berry scones from yesterday if you would like those, M'lady."

Sansa shook her head and unfolded her dress letting the long gown fall the floor. "No, we can eat at the Red Keep." It brought some small comfort to her that unlike the last time she entered the city she was ready for it. It couldn't hide its true face to her and she knew how cruel it could be. How it existed to deceive and punish young girls for believing all of the tales told over and over to them of the valor of knights and benevolence of kings. But she was no longer a young and naive girl, now she was a women and more than that she was the Lady of the Vale and wife to one of the most important men in Westeros. "Did you snack before I woke?"

Bethany nodded her head bashfully and twisted her hands into the hem of dress. "Yes she did, M'lady. I gave her one and she ate it with a small dollop of apple butter." Gretchel confirmed as she begun to stitch her into her dress. "Are you nervous?" The women asked as she threaded the dress closed with a darker shade of gray.

"Why do you ask?" _Because my father_   _and septa were murdered here and their heads adorned on the walls?_  Gretchel however didn't answer and finished her work in complete silence. Sansa in that time stared down at her tummy where she knew her child would grow. "Am I showing yet?"

Her golden haired handmaiden shook her head and did not look up from her stitching. "You've only been married for a moon and one half, M'lady. My own sister only started to show halfway passed the third moon after her wedding."

"That's a pity." Sansa murmured as Bethany paced away from her and hopped back on the window seat. "I hope I have a boy."

"Why's that?" Bethany asked as she peeked out a small crack that she had slyly left in the shutters.

"Because I know Harry wants a boy." Sansa explained as she picked up a gilded brush and ran it through her tangled hair. "And his vassals desire a boy as well."

"And what do you want, M'lady?" Gretchel asked with genuine concern for Sansa's feelings which demonstrated exactly why she favored the woman above all the other handmaidens provided for her. She may not have been the most skilled or the most polite or even the smartest, but she was the most genuine and honest of the bunch.

"I want Harry to be happy." Sansa felt confident that her mother had felt the same as she did during the early years of her parent's marriage. "Whether it be born a girl or boy does not mean a single thing to me ... I'll love my child the same regardless."

The wheelhouse briefly came to a stop at the city gates and in the midst of that Gretchel had finished helping Sansa into her dress and they picked a charming purple sapphire necklace that Lady Waynwood had gifted to her before the wedding. After they had started moving again she had found her place beside Bethany and they took in the sights of the city together as the wheelhouse rolled closer and closer to the Red Keep. "That's the Great Sept of Baelor." Sansa informed the girl as she pointed out one of its seven spires that poked out from above a butcher shop. "And that's the Red Keep." She added as she studied the walls that circled Aegon's High Hill. What caught her eye more specifically was the Targaryen banners that hung from them. It pained her for an odd reason to admit that the three-headed dragon suited the pale red of the castle better than the Baratheon banner ever did. She reasoned that they were made with the dragon banner in mind.

"Everyone looks so happy to see us." Bethany stated with heavy excitement laden in her voice. To Sansa though they just looked mildly interested in their presence which was a positive compared to how they once begged Joffrey for any scraps during his reign. It pained her to think that as the winter progressed they would once more be forced to starve and grovel when times got worse. She knew that the Dragon King's food would end sooner rather than later should he continue feeding half the realm as he did. Though for now it seemed everyone from the Gods Eye to King's Landing was happy and full which counted for something. It was only a few days ago that their party had shared the road with a small family near the hamlet of Briarwhite. The family had prayed for nothing but continued happiness before feasting on their shank of beef and carrots and as they did they thanked the Seven for returning a Targaryen to the Kingdoms at long last which her guards had cheered to.

"Riders are coming to greet us M'lady. I see our Lord Harrold amongst them." Mychel Stone announced from the front seat of the wheelhouse. He was an especially loyal and honorable man and good friend to Harry, so Sansa only found it a pity that he followed her husband's lead and not her own.

"Your mother's uncle Brynden Tully is with them." She heard Harwin add who she had named captain of Harry and hers household guard. If any man was to be charged with keeping her future children safe she wanted it to be someone whose loyalty was unflinching and unquestionable to her family. Sansa was sure that it would only take a few sweet kisses and praises to make her Harry agree with her if he even questioned her to begin with which she highly doubted he would. Things like that were not his strength as he was too trusting which did worry her at times. King's Landing of all places was not somewhere trust could be given easily if at all.

Sansa looked down at Bethany and with great care she brushed a dozen or so loose strands of her black hair back into place and asked. "Are you ready?" The girl nodded her head and smiled up at Sansa with big green eyes. "I'm sure your father and brother will be overjoyed to see you." Sansa knew that personally she was quite anxious to see her own brother and sister again but would be lying if she wasn't dreading the disposition Arya would be in. When the courier had met them on the road and given the letter to Harwin and the man's face had grown pale she'd feared Harry was wounded. When he told her of Jon and Stannis Baratheon being slain by a set of northern dissidents she didn't know what to feel at first. Only when everyone had fallen asleep did she let her own tears fall freely. It wasn't fair that even now after all the Lannisters and Baratheons lay dead and defeated that another member of her family be taken from her. She personally regretted of late what little relationship she had with her half brother and wondered if Jon ever felt that way himself. Not that it mattered now but she wished she could apologize to him, tell him how sorry she was for her lack of kindness. Her only comfort was that he was with Robb, Bran, and their father and she hoped that in death her mother would find someway to accept him as she could not in life.

After the wheelhouse had come to a stop in the Red Keep, Mychel opened the door and placed a set of stairs down to assist their step. "After you, M'lady." Gretchel exclaimed and Sansa did just that and dropped into the freshly shoveled yard.

Before she could say a word her sandy haired husband hopped down from his horse and wrapped her in his arms and swung her around in a great embrace. "I missed you." Harry murmured with a deep chuckle and warmth to his voice that made Sansa burn for him.

"You wouldn't have if you simply stayed with me at Riverrun." Sansa replied before gracing Harry with a quick peck on his cold lips. As Harry set her back down she smiled at him. "I'm pleased to see everything is still all in one piece. I don't think I could forgive you if your face received any wounds ... it is the best part of you." She teased the now blushing man.

Her uncle climbed down from his own steed and walked over to them with a wide smile on his face. "I'd say you're right. As sharp as a plow ox he is, and just as strong to boot." The Blackfish looked quite tired to her and she wondered how much of that was due to his duties to the realm or from her younger siblings sapping his energy.

"I'm sure you kept a close eye on him, Uncle. So thank you." Sansa said as she lightly hugged the rugged old Trout.

As Bethany stepped down from the wheelhouse Sansa noted a passing look that both Harry and Brynden shared with each other and which she knew meant something grave. "You look very pretty today, Bethany." Harry gushed with a deep smile and then kissed the little Blackwood's hand which turned the poor girl scarlet. "I hope you kept my wife good company. I was counting on you afterall."

"I did, Lord Arryn." Bethany exclaimed nervously while tittering over some small crush she had for him.

Harry however took on a look of great pain and snapped back. "Now I know you didn't just refer to me as Lord Arryn, Lady Blackwood. I hope you simply misspoke." Harry japed.

"I mean Harry." Bethany corrected herself as she hid behind Sansa to escape the shyness that she felt around handsome men such as he.

"Now that's better." The Young Falcon murmured and then broke into a loud and hearty chuckle that served to wake several horses in the nearby stable.

Sansa smiled at his enjoyment and noticed an olive skinned girl with a long black braid leaning against a post who watched them quite closely. "I heard you were delayed by the snow, I'm sure those wheels don't cooperate too well in that terrain do they?" Her uncle asked her but Sansa knew not the answer other than to say it was not a comfortable journey.

"You would be right, M'lord." Mychel announced as he exited from within the wheelhouse with two chests in each arm. "We broke nearly three wheels and lost four days of travel as a result. I myself hope this monstrosity can stay right where it is until winter ends ... or that someone else will lead it." He chuckled as he passed by them and followed a serving wench into the Red Keep to deliver part of the travel luggage.

"Aye, you missed the coronation sadly. You should have been there, the snow subsided when our King stepped out of Baelor in his white shift and the clouds parted and even gave us a small bit of warmth as the High Sparrow placed the crown on his head." Harry explained with some great lingering memory of the day. Sansa did not have the heart to inform him that they most likely began because the snow subsided and not because Aegon appeared. "His right is divine I've heard ... and the Sparrow himself claims that the Father personally supports the Targaryen restoration." She personally was happy to have missed that oh so joyous event as she did not know how much arse kissing she could stomach but was sure he received just as much as Joffrey once did.

"Watch your tongue." Uncle Brynden warned him in a hush and leaned in closely to inform. "You need to be careful how you address him in the open like that. This High Septon we have now is not cut from the same cloth as his predecessors and is itching to prove himself with all those zealots of his." Sansa knew those zealots as the Warrior's Sons and Poor Fellows and remembered how as a girl Maester Luwin taught her of the trouble they once had posed to the Targaryens of old.

"Baah, what do I care about some priests." Harry exclaimed and punctuated with a confident snicker. Taking another chance Sansa looked over her uncle's shoulder and mistakenly locked eyes with the olive skinned girl who turned and ran deep into the stables.

Bethany squeezed Sansa's hand and quietly whispered up to her. "Can we go inside now? I'm cold."

Sansa smiled and nodded her head. "You heard her. They can handle our luggage themselves can they not?" Harry nodded and linked his arm through hers and led her into the castle. It seemed to Sansa that nearly every hall was adorned with some sort of art inspired by dragons, be it tapestries, portraits, murals, or statues and even a few odd dragon skulls were on display. It was still quite early in the morning and only a small handful of nobles were awake and strolling the castle as they were and though she knew only a few of them from the Riverlands and Vale they all showed her more than acceptable courtesies and she hesitated to say that she was never shown that degree of respect even before her father was disgraced.

Shorty after they had climbed the second set of stairs her uncle pulled her aside and spoke quickly and quietly. He informed her of Lord Tytos Blackwood death on the battlefield and offered to take Bethany to see her brother for consoling. Sansa was nothing short of heartbroken for the little girl and it drew painful comparisons to her of her own father. After that the Blackfish had taken Bethany and separated off from Harry and Sansa. Soon after they arrived at their luxurious apartments which had been much more spacious than she would have guessed from how her husband spoke of it.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked with concern in his voice as he slipped off his mud encrusted riding boots.

Sansa ran her fingers over the smooth dining table that dominated the room and soothed Harry's fears. "It's perfect." She then kicked off her own soft slippers and admired a great vase that was nearly as tall as Bethany which sat in the corner of the room and was filled with bright yellow sunflowers that contrasted with the otherwise frigid room. "I think some blue flowers-" Sansa started as she turned to Harry who planted his lips on hers and stole away her breath. He was spirited in his advances and for that matter so was she as he lifted her up on the table and his tongue battled with hers.

"Perfect." He murmured to her as his hands struggled with the tight stitching Gretchel had accomplished on Sansa's gown. "Nothing but."

She hated to deny him but now was not the time for that. "Wait." She begged him as their lips broke and she buried her face in his strong chest. "Later ... I swear." She could see the desperation in his face and she would be a sinner if she claimed she did not desire him as well at that moment.

"Alright, that's a promise ... I hope?" Harry asked with a white smile that was only accentuated by his charming dimples. She nodded and he kissed her forehead longly before exclaiming. "Before I rode out to meet you I had the servants draw a bath."

Sansa smiled up at him and then hopped down from the table and replied. "And that's why I love you." She then turned towards the bathing room which housed a large seeing glass and stone tub which was currently filled with steaming warmth.

"I hope that's not the only reason because I've been called quite handsome many times by women less beautiful than you." Harry charmed her as she admired an assortment of colorful bath powders. "Lady Arianne Martell gave them to me for you. She says they produce quite a fragrant aroma when put into water and that you would enjoy it." Sansa nodded her head and wondered if that was all the Martell Princess had given him while she was absent from her husband. Most men and even some women said she was nothing short of a seductress and a septon in Harrenhal had croned about her being an object of lust put into the world to test man's virtue.

"I'll have to thank her when I meet her." Sansa replied as she picked up a vial of pale blue and removed the cork. Its contents smelled deeply of fresh winter roses and she knew that she had chosen correctly. "If you can behave yourself we can share it." Sansa then poured the powder into the bath and watched as the water turned to a faint blue tone and the most relaxing of scents filled the room.

"We both know I won't be able to control myself around you when you're unburdened." Harry explained and paced over to the doors of their apartment and slipped into a fresh pair of boots. "So I think it best I let myself out now and leave you to enjoy yourself."

"Lock the doors on your way out, I'd hate to be ogled by a nosy passerby." Sansa then deftly loosened the stitchings of her dress and let it slip to the floor along with her small clothes.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and he studied every inch of her body until Sansa was sure a trail of drool would leak from his mouth. "Like I'd let any shit in this castle receive that boon. That right is solely mine thank the Gods." Her husband then backed out of the room and begrudgingly pulled himself away from her visage. When she heard the click of the doors locking mechanism she let herself relax and stepped daintily into the hot water one toe at a time.

The exhaust of the journey quickly faded from her body and went even further than that as she felt a yawn escape her lips. When her eyes closed she felt as light as a feather and dreamt of nothing less than Winterfell and of everyone she had lost. In her Winterfell her father, mother, brothers, Arya, and even Lady were there welcoming her home. Only when she remembered that it was nothing but a fleeting fantasy of what could never be did she open her eyes.

"Arya!" Sansa cried in shock at her younger sibling who sat on the far edge of tub. "What are you doing here? I thought Harry locked the door." She then dunked her shoulders under the water to preserve some sense of modesty.

Her sister showed little care for Sansa's current state of undress and simply sniffled. "I didn't use the door." Sansa then looked closely at her sister and noticed the swolleness of her bloodshot eyes and remembered just how close Arya was with Jon.

"Come here." Sansa exclaimed as she sat up in the tub and hugged her sister close. Arya to her credit did not seem to care one lick about how Sansa had soaked her dress and simply returned the embrace back doubly as hard. "I'm so sorry." She murmured as Arya's tears flowed freely down her face and into Sansa's bath. "It will be alright."

"No it won't ... it will never be alright." Arya sobbed and Sansa felt her own tears forming the more she heard her sister. "It isn't fair!" She screamed in anguish. "He broke his oath to the Night's Watch to save who he thought was me!"

"I know. But it will be alright, he's with father now."

"It won't be! Not until they die!" Arya said with a fit of anger that took even Sansa aback. "And not just them ... but the fucking Freys too!" Her sister added and then pounded her fist on the hard stone of the tub.

Before her sister could harm herself again Sansa snatched her wrist and held it close to her chest. "Hurting yourself won't hurt them." Sansa exclaimed and then forced her sister to look her in the eyes. "Now listen to me, they will be punished I promise you. Each and everyone of the Freys responsible and whoever took Jon from us too. Harry will-"

"To hell with your husband, I want vengeance and will have it by my own hand and I don't need him to get it." Arya stated as fact with truer conviction than most septons could invoke during a sermon.

Sansa however knew that if Arya was allowed to stew in her anger she would do something stupid. "Will you siege and assault the Twins yourself? No?" Her sister bit her lip and Sansa could scarcely guess what ideas were forming behind those gray eyes. "To achieve that we will need an army and until Winterfell is no longer lost to us we need Harry and the Vale."

"So you know." Arya murmured under her breath.

"Yes, I do know." Sansa repeated before kissing her sister's head. She then stood from the water and dried herself off as Arya dried her lingering tears. "Will you be attending court with me today?" Sansa asked her sister hopefully and to her surprise she nodded her head. "Well if you are then you need to change into something finer than that." Arya's current state of dress was nothing more than a dark woolen thing that was tattered and torn on the hem and wouldn't do for someone of her status.

"I brought one." Arya murmured as she exited the bathing room and sat on the dining table. She showed her elder sister a surprisingly pretty wine and silver colored dress of satin as Sansa left the bathing room with a thick robe of tan terrycloth. "Nuncle scolded me until I let the tailor fit me for half a dozen of the stupid things."

Sansa still covered by only her robe walked over to her sister and admired the dress with great care not to soil it. "It's fabulous, Arya. I'm sure you'll look beautiful in it."

"You're making me regret that I brought it." Arya said above a whisper as she averted her gaze and touched the fabric, though she was not quick enough for Sansa not to spot and take notice of her embarrassment.

It had taken them both some time to get into their dresses. Even longer for Sansa to brush her hair and pin it up in a simple but fashionable style, Arya deemed it all a waste of time and simply pulled her own hair back and let it flow freely. Upon leaving the room Sansa was pleased to see all of her belongings piled outside of her door with a portly guard beside it. She instructed the man to leave them anywhere he deemed appropriate in the apartment as Sansa herself wanted to take care of it all later when she had more time. When both girls arrived in the throne room they were greeted to the sight of an already packed room to its breaking point. "Excuse me." Sansa said in vain to many a man who blocked their way and only when Arya suggested leaving did a familiar voice speak out to save greet them.

"They like to pile themselves in together like fish in a net do they not?" Mused the Hand of the King who was flanked by two burly men in plate armor. Before she could reply he bowed his head respectfully. "Good day to both of you, my Ladies. You both are breathtaking visions of beauty today. Though I would recommend you try a little less next time or each other maid here will toss themselves off the highest tower in the futility of trying to outdo you."

Sansa cracked a small smile at the gall of the man and offered him her hand which he promptly took. "It is nice to see you again, Lord Tyrion."

"And you, Lady Arryn." The Hand replied and turned his frankly ugly gaze to Arya and bid her the same. "I can't say I've ever seen you in such finery before, Lady Arya."

"What does it suit me?" Arya asked sarcastically and Tyrion took it in great stride.

"I actually was going to remark of how jarring it is in comparison to your usual state of dirt, sweat, and angry glares. But if you desire a compliment from one such as I than you shall have one if you ask." The Hand smirked back at Arya just as he snapped his finger and the two burly men parted the crowd with force. "If you'd like a better vantage I'd suggest you follow me." The Imp exclaimed as he led them through the crowd and to the forefront of the assembled nobles.

They eventually stopped much closer to the throne than Sansa would have liked, but it did make it easier to hear the going-ons rather than the gossip that permeated in the rear of the room. The room as a whole had changed very little since she had been there last as only the tapestries had changed and of course the now gaping hole in the roof that Arya explained was from a trebuchet. The light dusting of snow and cold that came through it was in fact rather enjoyable and staved off some the unbearable heat that the throne room was notorious for. However a quite unenjoyable fixture of the room was perched high above them on an ugly mass of melted swords that men called a throne. King Aegon the Sixth was to put it bluntly an intimidating figure when seated on his high throne she had to admit and the shadows that bathed him in thanks to the partly collapsed roof did that image only favors. Only when the herald called for silence in the hall did his violet eyes snap open and to Sansa they seemed to almost glow from within the darkness and when they stopped on a man be they the most craven or bravest they did not fail to falter against him. Even her own Harry seemed to stifle under the Silver King's all seeing gaze.

The herald's voice was loud and crisp as it echoed throughout every corner of the room. "This court calls forward Ser Ilyn of house Payne to answer to the charge of high treason."

A tall man next to Sansa that looked not dissimilar from a seagull whispered to his own lady companion. "Good, we're gonna start the day off with some blood."

"That summons will never be answered I'm afraid." Announced a strong and mean looking man who wore an open helmet shaped like a swan in flight. "Ser Ilyn Payne passed in his sleep last night." At that announcement the court broke out in excitement and joy that Sansa shared with them, but it then soon turned to muffled disappointment as they realized they wouldn't be able to watch a man lose his head. Arya herself seemed a tad disappointed as she made no sounds of joy even when his death was announced.

"Quiet in the court!" Screamed the herald who reclaimed control of the room. Sansa in that meantime looked up the many steps of the throne and watched as Aegon mouthed something she could not hear to himself it seemed. "The King will now speak." The herald announced and the room then seemed to be a tad bit more attentive.

"Please step forward Ser Balon Swann." King Aegon exclaimed with a steady voice that gave nothing away. On his call the strong and chivalrous man stepped forward from beside the throne and took his place in the center of the clearing on one knee. "You have served me valiantly and honorably in these last moons. And since I was but a wee child you never failed to not only look out for my well being but you also have made me a much better man." As the King droned on and extolled Ser Balon's virtues Sansa focused on a orange haired squire who carried a trio of white cloaks in his arms. "So I offer you the position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. What say you, Ser?"

Ser Balon never removed his eyes from the floor and spoke with a booming and confident voice. "You do me a great honor, my King. I accept and swear upon the Seven and honor of my house that I will not disgrace the trust you have placed in me this day or any of those that have yet to come."

"Then rise Lord Commander and take your place by my side from today until your last day." Aegon said with a small hint of emotion that betrayed his own love for the man that Sansa surmised he counted to like a brother. After the new commander took his place at the foot of the Iron Throne its King continued. "Now please step forward Ser Rolland Storm, Ser Loras Tyrell, and Ser Humfrey Hightower." On his call all three of the men asked for made their way to the center of the room and each of them took a knee before their new King. "You are each men of great honor, skill, valor, and none of you are lacking bravery. So in that sentiment I must admit my need of men such as yourselves by my side in these troubling and most dangerous of times." Again he had trailed off into niceties and pleasantries not too dissimilar from those he gave Ser Balon. Sansa during the droll had briefly met eyes with Tyrion who looked not nearly as bored as she guessed he would be and even looked angry she thought. Moving her eyes passed him she spotted Harry and her Uncle Brynden and even further passed them she spotted the same girl from near the stables. She had cleaned up quite a good amount but her hair still hung in the same braid and she looked to be just as bored of the court dealings as Sansa and Arya were. "So accept these white cloaks and immortalize yourselves." The King finished with some flair that she would have expected from a renowned poet and not a leader of men.

The orange haired squire then moved to the men and started with Ser Loras who without hesitation took the white cloak and joined Ser Balon. Ser Humfrey himself took a moment longer than Ser Loras did and only after he drew his family's sword Vigilance and swore his undying loyalty to the Targaryens did he clasp the cloak to himself and join Ser Balon. The last man Ser Rolland took the longest of the trio by a good amount and looked to not be sure himself. It was a long minute before he looked up to the Gods for guidance and it did not take three more breaths before he took the white cloak and joined his new brothers by the King's side.

"All good choices, but that Tyrell lad." A bald headed knight with the three silver mackerel of Bywater murmured nearby. "The boy should be taking a black cloak after all the kings he's failed."

Arya heard the man and added. "Like Jaime Lannister."

The man looked down at her with thick black brows and nodded with some self satisfaction as he realized who she was to say that. "Just so, Lady Stark."

In that later time the court had digressed into arguments of troop movements and squabbles of who was owed what for their part in the war. None it truly interested Sansa as nothing said in the open like that would be solved or even taken into account when the true powers of the Seven Kingdoms had yet to meet. She only knew that as her husband was one of those men who she knew had enough sense to confide in her before making any real decisions. The court had broken after what felt like days upon the command that the King's army would be marching north to secure Winterfell and bring the Northern Lords back into the fold. It seemed to Sansa that nearly three quarters of the room deflated when they learned that they would not be served first, but not one man or woman raised a finger or said a thing in protest.

When Sansa turned to speak with her sister she was surprised to see that was nowhere to be found. "Arya?" _Now where did she go?_ Sansa wondered to herself as she looked for the silver and red dress in the dense crowd.

"I saw the little dear slip off just a moment ago I believe." Sansa heard the familiar voice of Lady Margaery explain from behind. Turning to the thrice widowed former queen, Sansa curtsied politely and Margaery responded in the same kind. "It is so good to see you again, my friend." Margaery exclaimed and then Sansa took notice of the caned man beside her and recognized a familiar resemblance.

"You as well." Sansa responded and then smiled at the golden eyed man that she knew had to be Willas Tyrell. "And you must be Lord Willas. I offer my sincerest apologies for your father. He was a very kind man."

The new Lord of Highgarden to Sansa's surprise and horror with great struggle made it down to his knee and took her hand gently before kissing it. "There is no need for that. I've already made my peace with his departure. But it is so wonderful to finally meet you. I just wish this meeting could have occurred sooner."

As he spoke Sansa remembered that at one time he could have been her husband and despite his obvious injuries the idea did not at all seem distasteful to her even now. "As do I." _He is just as handsome as Loras._ Sansa admired as with great struggle and assistance from Margaery the Tyrell patriarch stood back up.

"We must all get together for supper soon." Margaery gushed with joy and too much physical contact for Sansa not to notice her obvious attempts at flattery. But she had to remember that they could one day be strong allies if she played them just right, and not to mention the strong possibility of her being queen a fourth time which seemed likely if loudly whispered rumors turned out true. "Oh and Garlan and his wife Leonette will be there too. Now just where are they?" Sansa was struck almost speechless by Willas' kind glances and how almost regal he seemed. "Mayhaps even your sister and brother would like to join us?"

"Mayhaps Arya will. My younger brother Rickon however is still at the age where he lives for adventure and roughhousing I'm afraid." Sansa responded as she tore her eyes from Willas to look Margaery in her eyes.

WIllas chuckled with a warmth that Sansa felt she would have lived for had her life turned out differently. "And there is nothing wrong with that. Children should be allowed to spend their days at whatever activity they favor. They only have that time for so long before duty and responsibility become their lifes." An older man with a drooping mustache who wore three Tyrell roses on his surcoat pushed his way through the crowd behind WIllas then and whispered something unheard to her in the Tyrell man's ear and his eyes grow wide in either shock or fear. After the man pulled away from Willas and lost himself in the crowd before the Lord of Highgarden excused himself and his sister but promised that they would all meet again soon.

To Sansa's luck she then spotted both Rickon and Arya at the front and center of the room conversing with the one person she wished would stay away. It bothered her greatly how much affection Rickon deemed on the Targaryen King while he was nothing less than belligerent to Harry who was his brother by marriage and deserved at least his minimal respect. When making her way towards her younger siblings she spotted her Harry and uncle conversing with a handsome bearded man and a sultry woman with olive skin who was in a quite revealing and scandalous dress, not too mention impractical given the weather. It stuck in Sansa's head that with the first look to her loving husband she caught him sneaking glances down the other woman's dress ... but she knew that he wouldn't do anything other than look now that he was married.

Sadly upon getting within speaking distance the silver-haired king noticed her first and struck first with an ingenuine greeting that she was sure he had perfected on starry eyed maidens by now. "Welcome to King's Landing, Lady Sansa." He exclaimed with an almost soothing voice and Sansa gave him the proper courtesies one must give to king's as was necessary. "I was happy to see you in court today. I had heard you were delayed and feared you caught cold on your journey."

"We Starks are much more resilient to the cold than our southern comrades I think you'll find." Sansa explained to him as she wrapped her arm around her younger brother and attempted to pull him closer to her and away from King Aegon.

Rickon through twisted away from her grasp and Aegon's desire to smirk threatened to break his unnaturally serene facade. "I think you're right, it's a tad distressing to me how quickly they seem to have decided the war is already over." The selfish man explained as the light caught the rubies of his crown. "But I fear these hard times are not at an end yet. Winter is coming as your house words tell us ... and I've been told this winter will be a most terrible one." The master of whisperers Varys then placed a hand on the King's shoulder and promptly the King smirked in a disgusting manner that nearly made Sansa vomit. "I fear we'll have to cut this short, duties of a king are long and never ending after all." With that the Dragon King and his white cloaks pushed their way through the crowd and vanished.

"What was he saying to you?" Sansa asked Arya who looked ready to depart from the still packed room herself.

Rickon quickly piped out. "He was just saying hello."

Arya to her credit looked annoyed at their brother and gave up his obvious lie. "We don't lie to family, Rickon." Arya then moved closer to Sansa and added in a hush. "He told me that we have to be careful around both the Tyrells and Martells." Quickly as she moved in, she backed up and said in a normal voice. "He just was complimenting my dress. Very kind of him." She explained aloud to anyone who was listening to them too closely.

Sansa didn't miss a heartbeat and smiled deeply at her sister and replied. "Well it does suit you. Shall we all go back to my apartment to catch up?"

"No, sorry but I have somewhere else to be." Arya responded back which surprised Sansa greatly. "And Rickon has a lesson to attend."

The elder Stark girl tried and failed not to feel offended but nodded her head in understanding all the same. "Fine, then maybe tonight we can all supp together."

Arya seemed to be in a great hurry and pulled Rickon by the arm behind her and agreed. "I have so many things to tell you." Arya said over her shoulder as she pushed her way through the crowd while dragging their brother with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't feeling this chapter so much but I hope some of you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Got snowed in so I finished it earlier than I planned, so happy New Year.
> 
> Woohoo 400th kudo, thank you guest reader. Happy to let you know that I recently finished the reveal of Jon's parentage and you'll love it I assure you.


	64. A Father

Rickon:

 

"Look at him, the stupid dew-beater. Thinks he's so much better than us now that he's no longer a Storm." Dickon growled under his breath as the trio of boys watched Edric Baratheon converse and laugh with several older knights at arm. "Acted like he didn't even know who I was, should've ruined that smile of his when I had the chance."

"What's stopping you?" Bannen Bar Emmon asked as he meekly peeked over the battlements.

Dickon looked ready to smack the poor boy for his ignorance and pointed out the obvious. "What do you think? It's not like I can stroll down their and punch him in the mouth now can I? I should have done it when he still was a bastard boy who begged to spar with me and couldn't get even." The heir of Horn Hill turned to look at Rickon then and murmured. "You should hate him more than I do, he's not fixing to marry any of my sisters."

Rickon's eyes glazed over as he stared down at the coal haired boy below who never ceased to disappoint. "Arya won't marry him, my eldest sister won't force her and the King doesn't want to lose Edric."

"Lose him?" Bannen questioned.

Rickon looked passed Tarly and at the ginger haired Bar Emmon and informed him. "My sister will kill Ed before he consummates any marriage between the two of them."

"Not that I wish our traitorous Ed on anyone, but a girl should listen and do as she told. My father certainly wouldn't let any of my sisters carry herself around like yours does, she has no business carrying weapons or fighting. She should settle down with an acceptable man and grow up."

"And who would that man be? You, Dickon?" Rickon asked the older boy who was of age with his sister.

The Tarly heir however shook his head and smirked at that assumption. "I'm already married and trust me ... I have no desires on a girl like that. My wife Eleanor is exactly like a woman should be, she sings for me, respects me, and wants nothing more than to please me. In return I provide a home for her, future children, and will protect her from anything that would do her harm." Dickon pulled away from the battlements and kicked a pile of snow away with a chuckle. "You would do well as her brother to inform her of her duty lest she fancies herself to become a spinster."

Rickon had not a clue what a spinster was but he wouldn't give Dickon the pleasure of knowing that he knew something he did not. He had seen enough of the bullying that Tarly inflicted on Bannen to know that he had no desire to be on the receiving end of it. "I'll remember that." Rickon murmured as the trio climbed down the stairs of the battlements and found themselves in a clearing before the white gardens. "What shall we do now?"

"We could play rats and cats, or even hide-the-treasure." Bannen announced with enthusiasm.

With a look of contempt Dickon shut down that idea quickly. "I don't mean to play childish games. I'm ten and three and you're a year older than me still. Did your mother drop you on your head or are you just naturally lame minded?"

Bannen shook his head and Rickon pulled his practice bow from his shoulder and pulled a tipless arrow from his hip attached quiver. "We could compete for shots." Rickon brought up and both boys found that a worthy use of their freetime. Dickon started with a shot over six yards that landed in the hollow of an elm tree.

"Beat that, Swordfish." Dickon challenged as he threw the bow to Bannen who in response slowly knocked an arrow back and looked for a target. "Hey, look over there." DIckon murmured to Rickon and pointed out Lord Aurane Velaryon who sat far across the gardens with a black haired woman. "Arrogant upjumped wastrel he is. Bastard struts like his shits don't smell and acts like he puts his trousers on two legs at a time." Rickon didn't know how a man could put on pants any other way than one leg at a time, but didn't question the claim of his arrogance as the man was nothing but prideful that was undeniable.

The loud snap of the bow string drew Rickon's attention back to Bannen who perfectly shattered a spear of ice that hung from a rowan tree. "Perfect. Nearly nine yards away. Your move next, Wolfboy."

"Piss on that." Dickon exclaimed as he still watched Lord Velaryon who crept his hand slowly and discreetly toward his companion's bum. "Give me that bow." The Tarly demanded as he ripped the bow from Bannen's hand. "Look at him, trying to get a handful of her arse he is. Smarmy bastard, I'd remove that bastard hand if that was my sister."

"What do you want to do about it?" Rickon asked as the girl politely slapped Aurane's hand away.

Dickon with a grunt of satisfaction handed the bow off to him. "What I want us to do about it is to teach him a lesson." The Tarly pulled Bannen Bar Emmon closer ahead and moved him towards Lord Velaryon's hat. "I want you to swipe that ridiculous feather."

"Why me?" Bannen asked with a tremble of fear in his voice.

"Because we need someone to distract him and Stark is a better shot than you." The Tarly heir pulled a practice arrow from Rickon's quiver and pointed it at the snow near to Aurane's boot. "Loose an arrow near him and then go distract him with an apology while Bandy sneaks up him. Dumb bastard won't even see it coming and then we'll find something fun to do with it."

"I don't wanna get in trouble!" Bannen argued.

"We won't if neither of you screw up. Just think what trouble we could stir up with that thing, slip it into some noble woman's laundry for her husband to find ... or maybe in a septa's bedchambers. Can you imagine the scandal?" His plan sounded cruel to Rickon but he wouldn't back down from any challenge the Tarly posed.

Rickon poked Bannen in the shoulder with the bow and tried to relieve his fears. "Just sneak around that low wall and keep low and quiet and he'll never know you were there. I'm the one who has to do the hard work, so stop complaining." The stacked stones were at least three feet tall Rickon guessed and added on that was another foot of fluffy white snow. Any hunter would call themselves lucky to have such a formidable cover for their tracks.

"Fine." The ginger haired boy surrendered not wanting to disappoint or lose the only two friends he possessed. He squatted low in the snow and crept along the wall at a slug's pace that made Rickon doubt their chance of success.

"Be mindful not to hit him, won't be able to talk our way out of that." Dickon whispered with anticipation heavy in his voice.

Rickon pulled the arrow back and kept his eye level with his target. "I got it."

"If he gets caught let's just run away. The idiot won't give up our names, he's too afraid we'll hate him." Dickon added as his voice betrayed his nervousness.

"I need to concentrate, so be silent." The Stark boy ordered as he saw Bannen's head peek out from the wall behind Lord Velaryon and his pretty lady companion. With a great exhale from deep within his lungs he released and the arrow travelled across the garden like a hawk in the midst of it's morning hunt. It had split several bushes in its flight and found it's home in the ground nearly half a thumb away from the man's foot. The green eyed man jumped in shock nearly a yard off the stone bench in shock and his lady companion screamed out in great fright which brought forth a quiet snicker from Dickon's lips. "Perfect," Rickon muttered as he waited for his next opening.

"What in fucks name is going on!" Screamed out Aurane Velaryon as he ripped the arrow from the ground and snapped it over his knee. "Come out whoever did that!"

Rickon handed his bow off to Dickon and pushed his way through the thorny bushes that hid them and called out. "I'm sorry, were any of you hit?"

The man's green eyes showed signs of hesitation when he looked to Rickon but his voice sounded of no such thing. "Get over here you little shit. Nearly hurt this good lady, you did."

The Stark boy dangled his head in false shame as he walked the distance to them. "I didn't know anyone was here. Are any of you hurt?"

"No, lucky for you." Aurane growled as he straightened his feathered hat. "Now what in Gods' name were you doing shooting that fucking bow off?" Rickon eyed Bannen from under the Velaryon's elbow and tried to tell him to wait, but the boy edged his hand closer all the same. "Well? Out with it, boy."

"I was hunting a ground varmint, he had two white spots on his back and a bushy but stubby tail." Rickon lied.

The Lord of High Tide pulled at his beard in thought and ground his teeth. "No critters left like that in these gardens after those two direwolves got here. Nearly hunted it clean of everything but the rats. Sure you weren't imagining it?" Bannen's hand then briefly touched the purple and pink feather before the Velaryon spun around and caught him. "Pickpocket!" He screamed as he threw the boy over his shoulder and into a deep snow pile. As Rickon turned to run the man grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and tossed him on top of Bannen and the boys' heads came together with a clunk.

"I can't be seen here!" Screamed the black haired girl as she backed up from Aurane. "My father would kill me ... and my brothers would kill you!" She shouted as she turned and ran away.

"Damn it, wait!" He shouted to her as she ran out of the southern gates to the garden. With a great snarl on his face he lifted Rickon off the ground. "Not only have I caught you trying to steal from me ... but you cost me a sweet and easy lay in her. Now tell me who put you up to stealing my purse and maybe I won't beat both your arses bloody."

"No one put us up to it, Ser." Bannen slurred as he tried to stand back up on shaky legs.

Lord Aurane dropped Rickon back down onto his butt and wrenched Bannen's head back by his red hair. "Don't lie to me, both of you boys have no need of my coin. Any of you friends with servant children or coal boys? He ask you to borrow coin so you saw me and thought 'he looks like a well dressed and dumb mark so let's steal his purse'. Is that what went through your foolish little minds?"

"We weren't after your purse ... we just wanted to take that feather on your hat." Rickon's legs felt like jelly from the bump on his head but he braced his hands on his knees and kept himself upright. "We didn't mean you any real harm, I swear."

"We ... who's we? How many little cutpurses are you in all?" Demanded the Lord of High Tide as he threw the dizzied Bannen back to the ground.

"We're not cutpurses." Rickon defended and met the man's gaze with as much strength as he could manage. "And there's only three of us," The Stark looked back to where Tarly was but no longer now having bolted when they were caught Rickon guessed. "And it was my idea ... I just put Bannen up to it." Bannen Bar Emmon teared up at the thought of being in trouble. Rickon knew that whatever punishment was dispelled on them he would receive the least of it due to his name and saw no reason he shouldn't take full responsibility.

"Stop lying to me!" Spat Aurane and his hand shot back to strike Rickon but it was caught by a white hand that held firm.

"Striking a child for some innocent fun is a bit too far, don't you think Aurane?" Exclaimed a handsome man with long flowing brown hair and golden eyes.

Aurane wrenched his arm free of the armored man and shot back. "Not so innocent when it involves coin, Ser Loras. Though coming from a family as wealthy as the Tyrells I'm sure you've never known what it feels like to find one's purse empty and stomach hungering."

"With pride I can admit you're right, some families teach better values than others. For instance my family has never sunk so low as to pirate and plunder the Narrow Sea as yours has in recent times. And not one person in my family has ever taken to beating children for amusement." Ser Loras responded back with firmness and anger in his voice.

"Your sister would know the amusement child beaters get best. She was married to Joffrey Baratheon for however short that was after all, took joy from stripping and abusing Lady Sansa Arryn he did from what I've heard. But I'm sure you've forgotten all about that, your whole family does seem to have short memories afterall." Aurane looked down at Rickon and dragged him before Ser Loras by his arm. "This little thief nearly took my foot off with his arrow while his friend tried to sneak upon me. Tell him the truth or I'll beat it out of you."

Ser Loras waited for Rickon's answer and so he murmured under his breath. "It was just a stupid game."

"What?" Shouted Aurane with anger.

"He said it was just a stupid game." Ser Loras repeated with a gentle smile on his face that made Rickon feel he believed him.

The Lord Velaryon again exploded with anger and stomped his foot down. "He can speak for himself, Ser."

"Well I heard him just fine." The Kingsguard said as he pulled Rickon behind him and motioned Bannen to come to.

"I said it was just a stupid and innocent game." Rickon repeated again just to appease the silver-gold haired Velaryon who was now red with anger.

"So you admit you did attempt to steal from me!" Aurane roared as the Bar Emmon boy walked passed and stood beside Rickon. "If you had not your family name I would take your left hand."

Ser Loras put his arm around Rickon's shoulder to unnecessarily shield him from the man's wrath. The Stark boy wasn't afraid of the Velaryon man even if he was bigger and stronger and older. "But he does, so you cannot. And our King needs to see you ... so if nothing was taken then I don't see any more that can be done, you've frightened them enough."

"I will be right there after I discipline these brats. Now get out of my way, Fool." Lord Aurane tried to push Ser Loras but he held strong and wouldn't let the man touch them.

Rickon ducked under Loras' arm and spoke up. "If you need to discipline someone then let it be me, I put Bannen up to it."

"You know what will happen if you strike him, Aurane. The Blackfish won't think twice after he hears what you've done to his niece's youngest child. Family, Duty, and Honor you should know is very important to them." Ser Loras explained in a calming voice that seemed to take effect on Lord Velaryon.

"Fine," Aurane dropped his fists and thrust them into his purse. "but he's coming with us to the King and we'll see what he has to say about the little thief." The Lord of High Tide kneeled down to Rickon's height and shot him a dirty look as he mocked. "SInce you said it was all your doing after all."

"You heard him, now on your way child." Ser Loras told Bannen with small push to get him moving. "Now we've kept the King waiting long enough." The white armored man led Rickon by his shoulder while the Lord Velaryon followed behind them breathing heavy as a plow ox.

As they arrived at the door to the King's room Rickon spotted a pox scarred man in the same armor as Ser Loras who he recognized but the man's name came as a blank. "Have trouble finding him?" The man asked Ser Loras as he shifted his spiked shield to another arm.

"There was some trouble but I'm handling it." Ser Loras replied as he opened the door and let Aurane Velaryon go in first. The pox scarred man looked down at Rickon and nodded his greetings as Ser Loras nudged Rickon inside. "Go on, you should never keep a King waiting in his own solar."

The Stark boy timidly walked into the room and spotted Aurane impatiently waiting on him as he tapped a black boot on the bright stone floor of the room. "Get a move on and stop dragging your feet, thief."

"What was that, Aurane?" King Aegon asked over his shoulder. The silver haired Targaryen was seated at a desk of black wood and dropped his quill into an inkwell before closing a letter with wax and pressing it down with his seal. "Took you long enough didn't it? I thought I told you no whoring or drinking today."

The Velaryon cleared his throat and replied. "I apologize for my tardiness, but I was assailed upon by a band of pickpockets."

Aegon sighed in anger as he rummaged through the drawers of his desk. "In the city?" The man then grabbed a handful of pages and set them on the wooden surface and organized them in neat pile. "I thought if anything they would take to stealing food for winter ... not gold."

"It was in the gardens. By this little wolf right here." Lord Velaryon announced with some satisfaction and Rickon felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment.

The Dragonking turned around slowly and looked back and forth between Rickon and Aurane thrice before asking. "What is he doing here? I needed to speak with you alone."

"I thought it best that you deal with this little pickpocket yourself. Being who he is and all."

Aegon squeezed the bridge of his nose in response to Aurane's words. After walking over to Rickon and he looked down on him with a frown. "What in Gods' name did you need money for?"

"I didn't need money-"

Aurane quickly interrupted and shouted over him. "He keeps feeding me lies that he wasn't after my coin, but the feather in my tricorn. Don't know who he's trying to protect taking all the blame, could be a peasant or servant's child." 

"I'd hear him for myself, Lord Velaryon." King Aegon exclaimed and looked Rickon in his eyes as he asked him in a stern voice. "Now what was it you were doing, I want the truth and nothing but."

"Dickon Tarly, Bannen Bar Emmon, and I wanted to take the feather off his hat. But it was all my idea, I just thought it would be fun is all." As Aurane Velaryon growled in anger Rickon added. "We weren't after his coin I swear it, I just wanted to impress them."

The King didn't look any less serious after receiving his answer and spat back. "You speak as if that makes it better at all." Aegon spun around and pointed at the terrace of his chambers. "Go wait out there, we'll talk in a bit." Rickon did as he asked and was greeted to the cold winter air as he again returned to the outside. From his vantage no one was around Maegor's Holdfast so he turned and peaked through the King's door and watched the two men speak in hushed whispers. "Dragonstone ... now ... by the sea." Was all he could make out as the King handed his near copy a leather satchel bursting at the seams.

"What about the boy." Aurane asked with some lingering resentment.

The King bent his head and whispered something too low for the Stark to hear. Whatever said was satisfactory for the master of ships as he turned and bowed with great flair before leaving the room. "Come in, Rickon." His violet eyes felt penetrating to Rickon as he did what the King bid.

"I'm sorry." Rickon murmured in shame as he studied Aegon’s boots, unable to look the man in the eyes.

"Since you can't look at me ... I assume you know what you did was wrong." King Aegon didn’t sound angry or disappointed to Rickon … just different.

Rickon bowed his head even lower and repeated again. "I'm sorry ... I-"

"And does that make it all better? Saying you're sorry?" Rickon shook his head and felt as weak as an ant. "Why? Why doesn't that make it alright?" Aegon asked him in true confusion and bewilderment.

“I didn’t succeed. He caught us before we took it so it shouldn’t matter.”  Rickon defended himself and managed to look deep into the man’s eyes for moment before cowering back to perceived safety.

The King let out a small chuckle that made Rickon feel the man wanted to do anything but laugh. “Aye, an attempted murderer should just be patted on the head and scolded for his actions is that it?”

“I didn’t try to murder anyone! I just tried to steal his stupid feather is all.” Rickon exclaimed with fire boiling hotter the longer he was patronized.

“That's not the point! I don’t care if you tried to swipe a feather or purse off the man ... the act itself is the same regardless.” Aegon exclaimed with finality that made Rickon cower once again.

 Rickon couldn't argue with the man if he wanted to and replied. "I said I was sorry."

“Yes for the third time. And every time you say sorry that word loses its value.” Aegon said with real anger for the first time. “Tell me … are you sorry you got caught or because you realize what you did was wrong.”

Rickon thought on that for a time and came to the only conclusion that wasn’t a lie. “Because I disappointed you.”

“Why should you care about disappointing me? I’m not your father.” Aegon told him as he grabbed the boy by the chin and forced to look him in the face.

“I want to be you, like you." Rickon admitted. "You’re never afraid … never at a loss for words and everyone respects and fears you. Even Arya in her own way takes notice of you. I want to be like that.” The Stark wanted that more than anything. He never wanted anyone to dare cross him. To know that the Starks were a house to be feared and respected.

“Like me? Like … me? You must be stupid if you really believe that being me is something to aspire to be.” Aegon said before letting loose a small chuckle.

“Yes, I want to be like you. No matter what you say ... I see how you move, speak, act, and are treated and I want that and to be that.” Rickon pleaded with tears in the corner of his eyes. “Teach me how to be you, that's what I want more than anything.”

“Teach you? Fine … but if this is truly what you want then you will live and breathe my every word as if I am your Old Gods made flesh.” With a look of anger on his face he breathed out in exhaust and recomposed himself before the youngest Stark. “You took all the blame for stealing the feather so your so-called friends could escape punishment. Noble act in itself … and a foolish one for you to make. You’ve known them for almost two moons and are already willing to sacrifice yourself for them … I’ll let you know that's not a mistake I’d ever make and do you know why?"

"Because they don't deserve it?" Rickon guessed.

"It’s because I know I have the furthest to fall ... and you are in the same situation yourself. Bannen Bar Emmon is in line for his father’s lordship which is all well and good, but ultimately is nothing to you. Dickon is in line for Horn Hill which is the most important military piece that the Reach possesses … so that's quite a modest step up. But you are in line for the Lord Paramountcy of the entire North, even them combined reaches nowhere near how high you have to fall should you make a fatal mistake or lapse in judgement.”

“So I should have just given them up and blamed them?” Rickon did not like the idea of betraying friends regardless of how long he had known them. It just seemed wrong in every way.

“Of course not, only a beast betrays his friends for his own sake.” Aegon explained to the Stark boy's confusion.

“But you told me not sacrifice myself for them because I have the most to lose.” Rickon argued as the man was not making any sense.

“You’re putting your own words in my mouth now.” Aegon looked tired and kneeled down to Rickon’s height and nudged him on the shoulder. “Do I need to use something other than words?”

Rickon felt he was learning nothing at the moment and so he nodded his head. “Yes.”

As the word left his mouth Aegon’s left hand smacked the boy’s cheek and knocked him to the floor in a daze. “Get up.” He demanded and with tears in his eyes from the strike Rickon returned to his feet only to receive another hit from the King’s left hand. When Rickon stayed on the floor and did not move the King said. “Well? Get up.”

“You’ll hit me again.” Rickon exclaimed as hot tears rolled down his stinging face.

“So you won’t get up then?” Aegon asked.

The Stark nodded and Aegon’s right hand slapped across the boy’s cheek in response. ”Alright! I’ll get up ... just-just stop hitting me.” Rickon said in pain as his anger begun to grow.

And as he returned to his feet the Targaryen smacked him across face with his left hand and sent the young Stark rolling to the floor again in severe pain. “Get up.” King Aegon demanded.

“If I get up you hit me, if I stay down you hit me … what do you want me to do?” Rickon begged for any answer that would spare him of another hit.

“I want you to do what you think is right for you.” The King explained simply.

As his right hand rose again Rickon pleaded out. “But whatever I do the result is the same.” That made the man pause and he looked to his right hand and then back down to Rickon before he struck him again.

Rickon had no time to make another choice as the Targaryen pulled him to his feet and smacked him across the face again with his left. “I want you to act for yourself and not like how I want you to.” With great force the silver-haired King pulled Rickon to his chest for a brief moment before releasing him. “Do as you’re told without question and suffer the consequences of being in someone's hand. Ignore that person and realize you are opening yourself to their wroth.”

“So if I do get up, I suffer ... and I suffer if I don’t.” Rickon murmured and then asked the older man. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Do the unexpected. You could have hit me after I first struck you and I would have stopped right there. You could have run after the second strike and I would have stopped. You could have threatened to tell your family after the third hit and I would have stopped. But you did nothing other than obey me and when you decided to stop obeying me you sat there like a hapless git and still let me do as I pleased.”

“So … what should I have done before?” Rickon asked as he remembered the true reason behind the strikes.

“What you did before was the best you could do and nothing but. If you thought it was worth it to steal his blasted feather than that's your choice.” Aegon explained with a gentle smile. “Just remember that everything we do … no matter how insignificant we think it is can carry consequences. Think before you do anything, Rickon. That’s the first lesson I have for you if you still think being me is something you want.” The Targaryen pulled a silken cloth from his black doublet and wiped the lingering tears away from Rickon’s face.  “Now dry your tears … a man should never cry in public. And only in private if it's for the sake of others. Do you understand me?”

The Stark boy took the soft cloth from Aegon’s hand and rubbed it against his burning red skin. “Yes.”

"Good-" Aegon was interrupted as a knock echoed off the door to his chambers.

"Lord Tyrion is here." Ser Loras announced through the door.

"He can take a stroll, I'll be done in a few moments." King Aegon announced and then returned to his desk to grab a wax sealed letter. "Do you pray to the Old Gods?" The Stark boy nodded and thought to himself that it had been far too long since he had spoken to Bran. "How do you pray to your Old Gods? I've always wondered."

The youngest Stark boy didn't know what answer he was looking for so he answered the best he felt he could. "I don’t know, I close my eyes and just wish for things I guess."

That answer seemed to displease the King. “From what you’ve told me you only talk to your brother before those trees, not your Gods. Is he your God? Your protector and guardian both?”

Rickon loved his brother more than he could say he loved anyone. He gave himself to a greater cause on faith and was doing everything possible to stop the threat of winter. "He is I think."

King Aegon’s light eyes dimmed and he grabbed Rickon’s face with both his hands as he leaned in close enough for the Stark to count the spots on his skin. “I serve seven gods and you serve one. What a spoiled and lazy child you are.”

"I can serve more than one, I just chose not to." The assumption that he was unable to do anything both hurt and angered Rickon greatly.

“Then from now on I am your deity. I’m the one who took you in and I’m the one who controls your world. Through me you become greater and through me you will face the world without hesitations. Do you understand?” Aegon asked with conviction.

It was just then that the door to the King's chambers opened and the Imp walked through them. "I do." Rickon nodded and without hesitation agreed to those terms.

The King briefly looked to the Halfman and gave him a smirk. After he stood back up to his full height he rolled his shoulders as if angry. "Such a troublesome ward I've picked up in you." Aegon sighed and then snickered. "But I am your god now, so that means you have to do as I command. Do you still?"

Rickon wouldn't back down now and doubled his stance. "Of course, I swear."

"Then go find your uncle and stay with him for the rest of the day. We'll speak more tonight at supper, we're having orange beef ... a specialty from Dorne I've been told." The King smiled and turned Rickon towards the door with a pat on the bum. "And do warn your friends to find some better games to play, or better targets at the very least."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the last important moments between these two until part 2 and is the basis of what's to come between them for better or worse.
> 
> Was going to have next chapter pick up right after this from Tyrion's pov but changed my mind. Hate to have an Aegon chapter so soon after his last one but oh well.
> 
> As it stands the lineup is as follows  
> 65: Aegon  
> 66: Jon  
> 


	65. Egg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very Aegon centric with very little Stark stuff, 
> 
> Kind of darker chapter from me that some might not be used to so that's just a warning. Also probably a good idea to reread the journal section of chapter 55 as it dealt with a lot of past issues Aegon has which are touched on in this chapter.

Aegon:

 

"I want justice for my family, your Grace." She asked on a knee before him. "The Freys broke the ancient customs of guest rights and it is your duty as King to punish them." It intrigued him that she would ask for that with so many onlookers versus a more private setting where she would not need to humble herself. Mayhaps she was more versed in opinions then she appeared?

The silver haired man dropped his fork on his plate and wiped his face as he took his time to formulate some suitable words. "Is that what you want from me?"

"Yes." The Stark girl nodded her head and looked up at him with surprisingly soft but puffy eyes. "And for my elder brother Jon's killers to face the same justice as the Freys."

Marwyn prepared to lean over to whisper in his ear however Aegon halted him. "I swear on my house's honor that they will face my justice, now stand." As the youngest Stark girl stood he looked over her and at the room full of lords and ladies who had ceased their feasting to gleefully watch a grieving girl grovel.  _She wished to put me on the spot ... make me look the villain should I have spurned her._

"And what will that be, your Grace?" Arya Stark asked him with a solid and forceful tone as if demanding not asking.

Aegon briefly eyed the Blackfish who sat two tables away from him. The man looked rather curious himself and it gave the Targaryen some consolation that he didn't put her up to it. "They will hang." She seemed pleased by that answer and put forth her best attempt to curtsy for him.  _She does nothing but cause problems for me._  He mused as it was not a poor plot on her part, audacious but not foolish in anyway. For what could he do other then promise a girl who had lost so much anything but justice before his vassals?"Does it not warm your heart to see how much she cares for her family?" He quietly asked his mentor as the room went back to their own conversations and foodstuffs.

"A tad," Marwyn grunted out before stuffing his face with an end of crusty raisin bread. "though not nearly enough to make me overlook her schemes. She tried to make you look weak." The mastiff of a man then grabbed a honey glazed turkey leg and took a large bite out of it. He always was a man who ate when angry or drink when sad Aegon learned as he grew. "Have you decided what we will do with her yet?"

The silver-haired King forked a slice of well cooked beef and dropped it onto his plate as his eyes met with Lady Arianne Martell's from across the room. "No, but one thing for sure is that I can't marry her to Ed." On instinct as he felt his stomach flutter while looking at her dark eyes he averted his gaze anywhere that she wasn't.

"Oh ... I was hoping we'd wrap a pretty bow around them and they'd live happily ever after. Hah!" Marwyn laughed as he bit off another large chunk of sweet meat.

Unfortunately he met the youngest Stark girl's gaze after Arianne's ... or more specifically her glare. "Now what." Aegon said to himself and responded louder to Marwyn. "We'd have to remove her limbs first, maybe her teeth too. Whatever she could use to kill Edric if we were to be sure. Though if looks could kill." In an attempt to correct whatever slight he'd dealt her he put on his best and most charming smile. It had no effect on the hate in her eyes and briefly he noticed how pretty her eyes were.

"She'd still be a wild and ungrateful beast." The mastiff grumbled at Aegon's left. "But I'll ignore her if she stays out of our way." The Targaryen scion tore his eyes from Arya's and looked at his mentor while the older man slurped down a cup of wine. "Speaking of the near future ... how do you feel?"

Without a second thought he replied. "Dandy and nothing less." He forced himself to take another bite of the wasteful spread prepared for him and the highest and most important families of his vassals. "Should I feel any different?"

His mentor looked annoyed and a tad questioning. "I don't know ... do you think you should?"

"Ready, a bit anxious and scared too if you want my honest feelings, however I've been ready since I was a child and that's all that matters." He wondered if the man would believe him as he said it but had no great expectations.

"I seem to remember a lot more trouble and strife you put up before that." Marwyn left it at that word and went back to his feasting.

The King's appetite was not even near as great as his mentors and that left him to pick at his food while he waited for the feast to end.  _Don't look so solemn, try to enjoy yourself._ He tried to tell himself in vain. One person he could find easy to look at was Willas Tyrell who sipped at a pumpkin soup while conversing with his good sister. The other person was the Stark boy who mimicked his motions as he spooned at the mashed squash on his plate. Thankfully he was spared of the elder Stark girl's disapproving looks as she and her foolish husband shared loving looks with each other and took bites off the other's forks.

With a stifled burp the Archmaester stood up from his chair and exclaimed. "I'll have to excuse myself I'm afraid. I still have some work and other matters to settle before we depart." Aegon expected nothing less and gave him an approving nod before the man briskly exited the Queen's Ballroom.

Aegon reached over to Marwyn's half filled cup and drank down the sweet liquid as an even sweeter aroma caught his nose. "Do you mind if I join you, your Majesty?" Asked the exotic and beautiful Princess of Dorne. He gave her a shallow nod and gracefully took the Archmaester's vacated seat beside him and her fingers briefly tickled his knuckles. "I apologize if I'm imposing, but you looked so lonely up here." Her breath smelled of fresh mint. "I've been told my company is not unpleasing and is quite enjoyable."

"It is," He quickly added and ran his hand through his short but growing hair. "today has just been a long day. I am happy to finally speak with you again, It's been too long-"

"At Harrenhal, our first meeting as well. I hope I'm not being too forward or direct, but I enjoy talking to and being with you." The Princess looked quite timid and shy as she spoke which was quite the contrast Aegon found to the revealing dress of purple silk she wore. "I find your presence ... soothing, your Grace." She breathed out in a husky voice.

"You are kind to say so. To be sincere I don't feel the same of you." Her face took on a look of shock but not insult which told Aegon much. "I find myself rather nervous and I nearly stumble on every word when I look at you." Arianne's dark eyes smiled at his and her cheeks turned slightly redder upon his compliment. "I don't mean to be too forward-"

"I want you to be ... and I can't express to you in words what that means to me." The Martell exclaimed as she pushed her shoulders back and he felt his eyes being drawn towards her impressive chest which she pushed towards him. "After all what woman wouldn't want to hear such things from her King? Or a man as handsome as you."

"You're kind," Aegon then pulled his hands from the table and away from her reach to take another bite of his supper. "are you having a fun time?" He asked as he looked over the other people in the room.

"I must admit it has been a bit dull. There is not enough music, or entertainment. Everyone is either talking or eating and they should be laughing and being lively."

Aegon couldn't concede her point as many of those men and boys would be seeing their families for the last time. The Others were an unrelenting force of nature that bided their time well and could not have chosen a better time to strike.  _If only I had two more years ... we could have been ready._ He was promised those years but as always a prophecy had bit his cock off as Gorghan of Old Ghis claimed prophesy only did. "Summer is over unfortunately, Princess Arianne. Winter is upon us and hard times are here to stay."

That seemed to take her aback and the Martell hesitated before replying to him. "You're right, I'm being selfish. In Dorne the winters don't affect us in the same way they do our northern neighbors. Some crops fail to sprout ... and the waters can grow chilly but I've never even seen snow before coming here." She then looked up at him with her dark sultry eyes and batted her long lashes in an obvious attempt to charm him. The rest of the feast had not gone much differently, a few tentative glances were exchanged between the two and more obvious attempts at flattery came from the Martell. After half the room had excused themselves for the night she spoke up again. "Do you like living in Maegor's Holdfast?"

He found that a strange question but answered it all the same. "Aye, it suits my needs."

"All by yourself?" Princess Arianne asked him as her arm slyly laced through his own. "I think I'd get lonely living in a place as large as that by my lonesome."

"Archmaester Marwyn occupies an upper chamber ... and I always have two of my Kingsguard around should I have need of them." Aegon exclaimed as her felt her warm fingers part his fist and tickle his palm. "But I do enjoy my solitary periods when I can find time for them." He would have been a sinner had he claimed her touch did not stir something within him. "So no, I never really feel lonely."

His answer answer did not suit her plans it seemed but she did well to hide it. Though even the slightest falter on her pretty face told him all he needed to know. "I've heard your bedchambers are something to behold. Nym told me of twin hearths, priceless artwork from Valyria, and a large four posted bed."

He tried not to think too hard as to how Nymeria Sand had seen the insides of his bedchamber and tried to ignore that alarming fact. "The hearths do keep me warm." The Targaryen japed as she politely laughed alongside him.

"I prefer the warmth of another body myself on a soft bed." Arianne said with a smile and bat of her long eyelashes.

Aegon pushed his plate forward and a servant took it from the table. "How do you know my bed is soft?"

Her lips peeled back in a smile and he noted how white her teeth were. "Well powerful men like yourself don't do for anything but the best. And Nym told me."

"A snake was in my bed ... tell me is that good or bad for my health? Should I be checking the covers twice tonight?"

Arianne pulled the Targaryen closer and whispered in his ear as her warm breath tickled him. "Well it means nothing bad I can assure you. Though I'm sure if you only asked she could make it very pleasant for you." The woman somehow got even closer. "Or both of us at the same time if you'd just ask ... my King."

Thankfully it seemed those who still remained feasting took no notice of her antics. Sadly those who did were those he knew would ask him of it later being Garlan Tyrell and his wife Leonette, and then there was Lady Arryn who had finally pulled her eyes off her dim husband. "Now that doesn't sound at all proper, Princess." Aegon exclaimed as he met her seductive gaze.

"Proper isn't fun ... and I like fun. We could both send you north in the proper way a King should be seen off."

"And I'm a Targaryen too." He murmured as her lips nearly touched his. Arianne Martell slowly slid his hand off the table and would have held it to her wetness had he not stopped her. "But that wouldn't be right, we are cousins." Aegon then slipped his hand from hers and sat back in his chair.

That did not stumble her and she stood up to kiss his cheek. "Three Martells in your bed sounds just to me. For the three heads of your sigil." As her soft lips left his cheek she added. "Elia is still a maiden, a little rough around the edges but at her heart she is a Martell and no one loves a Targaryen as best as a Martell. Remember that." He didn't know how she thought that would make him feel in her pretty little head, but it did nothing other than turn his stomach. Princess Arianne then spun and made a great act of swaying her hips as she walked away from him.

"Don't know what that did for you, but I know that I could do with a night stroll." Ser Balon exclaimed with a chuckle from behind him.

Aegon got up from his seat and laughed with the man. "As long as that stroll doesn't take you through the street of silk. I'd certainly have egg on my face if my Lord Commander was found in a whore's bed so soon after swearing his oaths." The man chuckled and bumped shoulders with Ser Humfrey who had tried to remain stern but failed and cracked a smile. He turned to leave the hall himself and made a point of ignoring both Stark girls as he passed by them and ruffled Rickon's sleeping head which was laid flat on the table. After arriving back in his room he briefly considered using the candles for just a moment to see what he had done to anger the youngest Stark girl or to look even further in the west. In the end however he knew that it would be a waste and their uses were not something he could afford to squander for the peace of mind.

True to Nymeria's observations his bedding was quite soft and did a good job of assuaging his tired body. Never was it an easy task for him to find rest and tonight was especially difficult for him as he dreaded the march to the North. Aegon heard at least one shifting of his Kingsguard before falling asleep for the night and when the darkness took him he wished it never came. It was a dream he only had in the worst of times and despite his struggling it came to him all the same.

He was a small child again in his sparse room of only the barest necessities in Stonehelm. Soon after a much younger Marwyn with a full head of thick hair would come into the room and praise him for being awake at the crack of dawn and would then dress him with no help from the boy's part. "What are you so unhappy about? You're alive aren't you?" Aegon asked the foolish child he once was but like always his question was met with deafening silence. "So ignorant."

After the morning rituals of dressing ended the Archmaester would present him with the first lesson of many in the form of a water yoke and instructions to draw water for a bath. Simple task in theory if it was not made for an ox but for a child's shoulders. "Get to work." Marwyn told him as he would always place a much lighter yoke in plain view of Aegon.

The Targaryen remembered greatly how it had hurt his shoulders at the time and how he believed it would make him big and strong if he persevered. "You can hardly lift it." He murmured to his younger self as he struggled to bring the yoke up a flight of stairs to his tub. It pained him greatly even now as he watched his legs give out and fall down the stairs while spilling the water.

It was only after enough falls that his tiny body did fail and refuse to move, but the look of disappointment on Marwyn's face hurt him even more than the pain. "Are you giving up?" His mentor asked him and in great shame he was forced to nod and concede his failure. Aegon knew even then that Balon watched his 'younger brother' even though it did start as some form of amusement not concern at watching the bastard suffer.

"Grab the lighter yoke and fuck the rules." Aegon tried to tell himself as the days jumped forward and he continued to batter his head on the wall of a task before himself. But again and again Marwyn would hand him the ox yoke and he would place a lighter yoke against the well. Yet again and again he fought and fought to use the heaviest yoke and to prove to Marwyn and himself that he could do anything. It was only after a fortnight of failures that the beatings started and they did nothing but halt whatever successes he felt he was making on his bath. Like an imbecile he still couldn't understand what he was meant to do and when beatings failed Marwyn begun to send him to bed without supper which did not improve his strength.

"Do you think you'll succeed tomorrow?" Marwyn would always ask him as he tucked the young Egg into bed.

He would nod his head and do his best to mask the rumblings of his stomach. "Yes." The Archmaester like always would shake his head in disappointment and blow out the candles.

Aegon remembered quite fondly the strange sensation that he went through at night when he would find a lone biscuit slipped into his pillow. The delicious and buttery taste of it as he stuffed his face as quietly and quickly as he could so as to not alert Marwyn of his moonlight snacking. "Just throw it down and use a smaller one, Maric. If you don't try you'll never know." Balon would beg him as Aegon held back tears from how sore his body was.

He however was determined that he would resist and fight through whatever obstacles Marwyn put before him. "I won't let him win, I won't let him tame me." Aegon nearly chuckled at how determined and fiery he once was to prove he would never submit or bow to anyone.

The world around him skipped ahead and stopped close to when Balon had first met Myra he guessed. His younger self had looked dirtier than ever before and Aegon remembered the painful rash was that he had picked up. "You're absolutely hopeless aren't you." Marwyn muttered to himself as Aegon again missed the second step and tumbled down to the floor. "You really are an idiot in every sense of the word. A bloody disappointment and waste of time is all you are to me.

"I'm trying." Younger Egg complained as he forced himself back to his feet.

Even now Aegon had never seen Marwyn so angry as he was then. "And that is why I'm angry! Look at this!" Marwyn screamed and spittle flew from his mouth as he held up the human sized yoke. "Everyday I handed you that blasted thing and you went on your happy way to follow my commands without question!" His mentor threw the small yoke away and lifted the heavy yoke onto his shoulders. "Even I would fail with this and I'm much bigger and stronger than you."

"I just wanted to make you proud." Aegon murmured as he relived one of the worst moments of his life. "Will you hit me?" He stupidly asked the man in not fear but shame.

The Archmaester braced himself against the stone wall and said under his breath. "I've never struck you in anger ... I need to be calm for that and I fear I may never be again."

"I'm sorry,"

"Shut up ... I can't listen to you anymore. So just listen to me." Marwyn pinched the bridge of his nose and balled his meaty hands in a fist. "You think you deserve to be rewarded because you're honest and fair. I never liked that one bit. It's nothing but pure arrogance and a fair amount of stupidity thrown in to test my resolve I swear. I gave you every opportunity to cheat and bend the rules ... but YOU thought so much of yourself and wanted to show me that you could do anything.”

Aegon remembered it was not long after this that Marwyn had taken him to Lockeport and given him over to a fruit merchant. "How long do I have to stay here?" He had asked his mentor who gifted him an empty journal which he had treasured his entire life.

"Until you learn how life treats those who work hard and play by the rules made by men." The Archmaester explained and then gave him the first hug he remembered ever receiving from the man. Aegon never knew until much later in life that Marwyn was always watching from a distance. Even Balon had fled home to find him and nearly blew the entire lesson before Marwyn divulged in Balon the future he needed to be ready for. "You did your jobs too well." Marwyn explained to him on his thirteenth birthday. "I gave each child a copper piece to beat and steal from you. And I can't tell you how joyed I was when after the first beating you began to hide and avoid them. You finally learned your lesson."

It was after his time in Lockeport that he found his true fire and showed Marwyn that there was a dragon inside of him after all. "I hate you." The small Targaryen had exclaimed to the first man who ever loved him.

"I'm all you have, boy. You can't afford to hate me." It was nearly a day later of pure silence between them before Marwyn had finally shown Aegon another one of his weaknesses. "Do you know why I'm all you have?" The journey back to Stonehelm was never easy and he asked the boy that after drinking far too much wine in the dead of night as Aegon tried to sleep.

"Because of King Robert Baratheon." Aegon hiccuped in his sleep as he shamefully cried and wept like a babe begging for his mother's teat.

Marwyn in a drunken stupor laughed for a good long time at that and started on a third skin of wine before he said. "No because of Rhaegar ... the Silver-Prince with his frilly harp." The Archmaester roared in laughter to the clear night sky. "That's why you have no family, Egg. Your mother was raped and murdered along with your sister ... all because your father couldn't keep his pants up. He got his chest crushed in with another woman's name on his lips. You and your sister never went through his mind even once ... only Lyanna Stark's."

It was at that point Aegon had tossed a heavy rock at the man and missed greatly. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!" The tears had long ago stung his eyes to near blindness and so he pounded his fists into the dirt below to quell his rage.

"Am I wrong? If you ask any man they will tell you what the Silver-Prince said. No one loves you because love is not inherent, it's earned ... so remember that and I promise you at the very least you'll end better than your father did."

The Archmaester was woozy from the wine then and could hardly stay upright as he reached for his final skin of wine and for a strange reason Aegon snickered through tears. "So not on the end of a hammer?"

"Bwahaha!" Marwyn screamed out in pure amusement over the silent and still forest. "Or with two names on your lips!"

Thankfully the darkness began to rescind and he woke to a startle as a bearded servant stood at attention in the corner with a fresh pair of clothes.  "I'm sorry, your Grace. I thought you were already awake."

Aegon blinked the tears from his eyes and kicked the furs off his bed and assured the man. "It's quite alright." The man looked to be a good two stones underweight, Aegon guessed he had seen some hard times in his life. "Did you let him in?" He asked the man as he spotted a scruffy black cat sleeping on the foot of his bed.

"He was here when I came in." The man explained and shook the clothes in his arms. "Would you like me to help you dress?"

The Targaryen shook his head and took the wool tunic from the man. "I can dress myself." The smell of bacon, eggs, jams, and warm bread wafted through the room and Aegon's stomach turned just thinking of food. "And do me a favor and finish that food. Its smell displeases me." Aegon rambled aloud as he undid the tight buttons on his doublet and stripped it off.

"But Archmaester Marwyn was adamant that you eat, your Grace." The man did have some bravery to question a King's command he had to acknowledge that much.

"And I'm King and I'm telling you to eat up." Aegon felt the man could use a hot meal more than he could. Without any more need for prodding the man began to inhale the food set on Aegon's dining table and the Targaryen suppressed a chuckle as he stepped out of his pants and put on a much thicker set of riding trousers. Thankfully the man had drawn a fresh basin of water and warmed it for Aegon to clean his face.  _What would you think of me now?_ He wondered to himself as his mind drifted to his mother.  _Would you be proud of your little brother?_ He hoped his sister would approve of what he was today. "Do you have children?"

"Me, your Grace?" The man asked with a mouthful of bacon. Aegon simply splashed the water in his face and gargled as he waited for the clearly simple man to answer him. "Not yet ... my wife miscarried this last year and with winter we just thought this wasn't the best of times."

"Why?" He asked the servant while he pulled a thick woolen shirt over his head. "Do you think I would allow anything to happen to my people? Do you think I'm a poor excuse for a King that would let your suffer during winter?"

The man furiously shut his head. "Never, your Grace. I misspoke is all and meant nothing by it."

"Then be happy and merry ... start a family and enjoy what life gifts you with no regrets. And be sure to spoil your children at every opportunity." Aegon ordered as he buttoned a blood red silken doublet.

A hard knock hit the door and Ser Balon announced. "Ser Tyrion has returned. Shall I let him your Grace?"

"Yes," King Aegon responded as he turned to the bearded servant. "Take the plate with you and enjoy."

The man did as he was bid and passed by Tyrion who looked like as if in the wake of the Stranger. "You look horrible, was there a battle I missed?" The Imp asked him with a smirk.

"I couldn't be better." Aegon replied as he motioned to the black and blonde beard on the Imp's chin. "But what of you? Did you finish a cask of red and satisfy a troupe of women last night? You were noticeably absent."

"What I've heard I couldn't be happier to miss it. Boring, somber, dull, drab, but delicious food at the least." The Halfman scanned the room for libations and upon not finding any pulled a chair out and hopped onto it. "Mayhaps you could have offered a song to soften the mood."

The Targaryen shook his head and remembered his own boredom the night before. "I could have sung a dozen ballads and rode in on a dragon and that mood would have persisted. They're scared and by all rights they should be." He then reached down and pulled a skin of dornish sour he kept hidden under his desk. 

Aegon tossed it to the Imp who caught it and pulled the stopper with his teeth. "I don't know about them but I'd enjoy myself. Watching the little rats scurry into their holes in fear." The Halfman put his head back and drank from the skin deeply then. "Though I heard there were more than just rats."

"Aye, there were suns, and stars, roses, swans, stallions, and herons, and owls in my hall." The silver haired man took the seat beside Tyrion and propped his feet up on the table as he rolled his hoses on.

The Imp of Lannister smirked devilishly and fixed his gaze on him. "Really? I heard a wolf had a request of you." The Targaryen nodded his head and wouldn't let his Hand pin him. "You do know how fast that has already spread don't you?"

"That quickly, eh?"

"Aye ... that quickly." Tyrion growled in anger as he spilled wine over the side of the leather skin and stained the table. "You do realize that to get to the North we will have to cross the Twins?"

"Yes I'm perfectly aware, my Hand." Aegon exclaimed as he dried the spilled wine with a black handkerchief. "What would you have done in my place? If I said no the faith would have raised problems and accused me of permitting an unholy crime. I would have lost much of my support in the Vale by way of Sansa. Added to that is the Blackfish who I swore I would give vengeance to for the Red Wedding."

"And Arya Stark ... you would have given her a second reason to murder you. Which is one more than she needs after you put your hands on her beloved brother." Tyrion again brought up a matter that he had nothing to do with and understood nothing of which frustrated the King to no ends.

"I dare her to try ... and I wasn't discipling him I was teaching him a life lesson." Aegon responded without fear. "Everything will be fine my friend, believe me."

The Imp shook his head and exclaimed with anger. "I disagree, she will slip your throat in your sleep if Rickon even mentions that you touched him."

"What happens ... happens. I don't fear a little girl with a child's sword and dagger." He couldn't afford to take real notice of her with so much to be done.  _My life's safe for a time, my friend._ The Targaryen wished his friend would believe the truths he had seen. "

His Hand bowed his head and gave in as it pertained to this argument. "Fine, make japes and put her out of your mind. But there is something off about her ... she's not what she pretends to be." Tyrion reached back out for the skin but Aegon snatched it off the table from him. The Lion leaned back in his chair and frowned at the removal of his sole comfort. "I've been to the Wall before, did you know that? It was after Jon Arryn died when Robert took the whole court to Winterfell. A much simpler and happier time that was ... everyone was so unprepared for what was coming. Did-"

"You won't be joining me in the North." Aegon told him to the man's great shock.

"What?" Tyrion asked in anger.

"I don't need you in the North-"

"If you don't need your Hand then who do you need? You need someone to act when you cannot and that man is me. Like it or not." The man was not wrong on the whole, but he overstated his importance.

The Targaryen wondered for a time how his friend would take to the next command he had for him. "I need all Seven Kingdoms to beat the threat of Winter ... whether you believe the Night's Watch or not I don't care. I know they aren't lying and I know that I can't stop them without more men than I currently have." It took a deep breath and it pained him to finish. "I need you to bring the Westerlands to heel."

"And you're sending me? I spent the first half of my life being scorned by many of those Lords. The second half I spent trying to avoid that place. Do you think they will just accept me as their Lord after all that has happened?"

"I don't care what they think of you ... I only care that they accept you as their liege Lord and recognize your claim on Casterly Rock." Aegon still hadn't told the second piece of his plan what the future had in store for him. "And to that end the Blackfish will join you with fifteen thousand men to free his nephew Edmure and bring the Westerlords to heel. And before you try to tell me that I need you on the Wall I don't, I have plenty of battle hardened soldiers and commanders."

That made the Halfman sound like two men as he shot back. "You have green boys that worship you and tired old men who will follow you until it's no longer beneficial for them. I've been with since the beginning ... you can't send me away."

Aegon met the Imp's unnerving stare without falter and replied. "I've made my command and my mind's made up, Tyrion." He hated the taste greatly of wine but drank from it all the same. "And I don't trust the Blackfish in the North. His past loyalty to Robb Stark is far too present for me to risk him around the Northerners."

The Imp looked despondent but accepted all the same as he had no more say in the matter like a good Hand. "Then I suppose I should prepare to go home. I'll let Pod know the good news ... Myrcella won't be pleased." Aegon watched his friend pitifully walk from the room as if on his way to the gallows. 

"I take it you still like me?" Aegon asked the green eyed cat as it batted its head against his shin. The beast in response to his question hopped onto his lap and began purring as he scratched the feline's chin. "I'll take that as a yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the reveal of R+L=J.
> 
> I have a feeling most people will hate Marwyn now.


	66. The Song of Ice and Fire

Jon:

 

There was a cold and foul wind in the air as the party of crannogmen and onion knight crossed the final hill before Winterfell gave way in the distance. The first sight the crannogmen took note of first was the forest of sharpened palisades that walled off the free folks’ makeshift village. “So they were let down south.” Said one of the younger men in distaste who held his stick bow at the ready for battle.

“The Night’s Watch really has fallen low. Letting wildlings this far south.” Exclaimed another man much older than the first as his gnarled fingers tightened around his leather shield. "We could set up a position inside that copse of rowans and fell a good number of them before they even know what's hit them." Jon in response growled at the man and the latter sighed and looked ashamed that he was overheard. "My apologies, Lord Stark. But when I was a much younger man I ran afoul of some wildlings north of the Wall and none of them thought twice before trying to do me in." Jon spotted Howland slowing down his stride from the head of the pack to converse with them. "I'd rather have us slit their throats before they do the same to ours is all I'm trying to get across."

"It seems they've behaved themselves with the occupants of Winterfell. So until they turn their arms on us we will hold ours off them." Howland told the duo with a distinctly calming voice that his people had listened to and obeyed unquestioningly for the past two decades. He was a leader much in the same way Jon remembered his own father being. He looked at those under him not as disposable pieces to use and destroy or as if unthinking beasts but as equals and friends. "You will have a big part to play in the future of the Seven Kingdoms, Jon. It's been decided and you need only carry on for a little longer." Howland told Jon again just as he did for the first time before they departed from the floating castle of Greywater Watch with the onion knight. "Trust me." Howland then regained his silence and readjusted the trident spear hanging on his back.

Jon was far passed wishing he could truly communicate with Lord Reed. He tried to adjust to what he was now and that the days of speaking amongst men was lost to him. It was such a simple and basic funtion that he took for granted all his life and now that it was gone he felt at a loss for why Howland truly brought him back to Winterfell. Howland had not tried to speak inside his head like he had before and despite how unnatural it felt to Jon he found himself begging for the sensation again just to break his boredom. He didn't know if it was some magical ability the man possessed or if it was a natural gift but when the crannogman spoke he always felt compelled to listen close and that was why he followed the man away from an honorable death in the south against his family's killers. _It will do our King no favor to slay those who slew him. Believe me Jon ... I know that better than most claim to._

They walked for what felt like five minutes before the party came to a screeching halt and Howland called for an empty cart to be pulled forward. Its platform was filled with a multitude of light and dark furs that the crannogman had prepared and stockpiled for years. "This is close enough." Howland acknowledged in a wistful tone that Jon felt uneasy of. "The time is almost here. Everything will make sense in time if you simply endure." He then knocked the light dusting of snow off the bed of furs and urged Jon. "Climb up and get comfortable for your companion's sake." Jon looked to Howland in confusion but the little man gave him nothing more than that final warning as he procured a quartz filled vial of mashed roots taken from the Neck. "I must warn you that you will suffer not just physically but mentally too. It will not be an easy thing to bare what you will see." After Jon hopped up to the carriage Reed drew a curved blade of bronze from his belt and opened a gash on his finger. "Everything you see you must realize is not real, but remember that nothing you see is false either." With great care Howland let a single drop of his blood fall into the vial and it impossibly turned its clear contents a dark blue not unlike that of the ocean. "Now drink and be reborn." Just as he was bade Jon lapped up the contents of the vial after Howland poured it in a wooden bowl for him.

As the liquid touched his tongue he felt a sharp numbness flow through his body. He tried to fight the growing darkness that bordered his sight just as he did the day King Stannis fell and just like before it overwhelmed and dragged him to murky depths. In the darkness he heard many voices that he hadn't for a long time, some were of men he hated and others were of friends he missed greatly and some were unfamiliar to him whose faces were lost to his memory. It felt like he had slept in that darkness for years beyond counting and when he tired of his own voice and of the shadows he fought with all his might to free his limbs which had gone lax and weak while he laid at rest. In time after all of his fight had left him and come again and then left him again the light returned to his eyes ever so brightly that he felt blinded for another half century. It took time for him to find himself and when he did he woke in the Godswood of Winterfell, but even then he felt he was not truly alive ... or dead ... just that he existed.

He shared the grove with two men that it pained him to see. The first was the elder brother of the second and he possessed a long solemn face that wore all the pains of a world that let him down. "Are you asking yourself ... or me?" A much younger Eddard Stark asked his younger brother whose face was soiled with fat tears.

His uncle Benjen looked to nearly be fourteen and was much more a boy than the man Jon had known. The younger brother kicked his feet to and fro in the dark pool before the heart tree. "You. You and ... and the Gods and father and Bran ... and Lya." Benjen sobbed into his hands.

"You couldn't have stopped her if you wanted to. She was always so damn headstrong." Eddard said with great anger behind his voice. "She never listened to Brandon or I ... only father could guilt her." He then threw the sheathed blade of Ice off his lap and it clattered against the melancholic weirwood face. "She just wouldn't listen!" Eddard screamed as he angrily slammed his fist on an ungrounded root.

"But if I-I if I would have just went to father and told him then he would have stopped her." Benjen heaved through tears. "The moment she confided in me it was my duty as her brother to do what was best ... and instead I rolled over and let her convince me."

Jon's father looked up at the clear sky overhead and rolled his shoulders in exhaust. "What's happened has happened. Nothing we say will change that now." Eddard sighed and slid closer to his younger brother to put a reassuring hand on Benjen's shoulder. "Torturing yourself over past mistakes won't change them, Ben."

"But I was the one who found the armor, Ned. And I was the one who paid for the horse ... not Lya." Benjen pushed his older brother's hand from his shoulder and stood up from the black pool. "I need to atone. It's only right." Benjen wiped the tears from his face and dried his eyes with a renewed look of vigor that Jon recognized well in the man.

It was with great sadness in his voice that Jon's father suggested the one way Jon knew his uncle would atone for whatever he had done to Lyanna Stark. "The Night's Watch is an honorable order. Serving the rest of your days there would be a selfless act if you truly feel you have something to make up for, Ben."

The world shifted around him again and it was all too soon for Jon. He wasn't ready to let them go but it mattered not as the murky darkness of the pond engulfed the grove and swallowed him whole. When color and light returned to the world he found himself back in the Godswood only now its grounds were covered in a white fluffy snow. While Benjen was gone his father was still there now only older. He looked exactly as Jon remembered him. "You can come and sit with me. You don't have to stand there."

"You know I'm here?" Jon asked his father in disbelieve.

"Yes ... I can see just fine." Eddard murmured as he looked up from his polishing of Ice. His gray eyes looked somewhat sad as he looked over Jon as if studying him. "Come and sit beside me, I think we have somethings to discuss."

Like a small boy Jon bounded towards Eddard and threw himself at the man's feet. "I wasn't there to save Robb or Lady Catelyn. I should have been there for them ... and I should have been there for you!" Jon felt Eddard's hand brush the back of his neck and even if he was crying like a child he didn't care. "I'm sorry, I failed you. I thought that if I accepted Stannis Baratheon's offer I could save Arya and-and." A hiccup cut off Jon's speech and he started over. "Sansa, and Arya, and little Rickon are all alive in the south and I can feel that Bran is still alive somewhere; someplace."

"I know, Jon. I've seen them all and I'm proud of each and everyone of you. They've all grown up so fast and matured in their own ways ... and so have you." Eddard granted Jon a rare smile that he wished he was worthy of receiving. "I've seen everything and you don't need to explain yourself ... not to me of all people. Gods know I never was honest with you for that matter. I'm proud of the man that you've become, I am. So you have nothing to be ashamed of and don't let any man tell you differently. You've acted just as a Stark should ... you put your kin before your honor ... just as I did."

That brought Jon relief ... though not enough to remove the regret over not forsaking his honor sooner so that Robb would still be alive. He swallowed done whatever amount of fear he still held in his heart and asked his father. "Is it time? Can I finally join you ... and uncle Benjen and Robb and everyone else?"

His father slowly shook his head and looked to be in pain as he gave Jon the one answer he feared. "Not yet. It's not your time."

Jon pulled himself away from his father's feet and kneeled before him. "This isn't real ... none of it is."

"Just because something isn't real doesn't mean it's not important, Jon."

He wondered if that was true. "I just want to believe that you're here with me ... I've been so alone. Everything I do seems to fail ... no matter how hard I try or fight I still lose those I love." Jon exclaimed with a heavy heart.

Eddard took Jon in his arms and gave him one final hug that succeeded in bringing Jon some comfort. "Then pretend it is real. Just don't forget the difference ... or who you are." His father reached for Ice and stood up from the snow as Jon helplessly reached for him. "Never forget what you are. Even when everything one else does ... don't."

"Please ... please don't leave me." Jon begged the man in vain as a warm feeling spread through his right arm and bathed his face. "I can't go back ... I'm not who I was before. I need you to guide me."

His father stopped in his tracks and turned to face Jon with tears lingering in the corners of his gray eyes. "I'll always be with you Jon. Remember who you are ... my son." The colors of the world blended together again and formed nothing but darkness overhead.

It was with great pain that Jon blinked his eyes open and looked at the stone ceiling overhead. _Where am I?_ Jon thought in a panic as his limbs fought against him for control. _What is this?_ Jon tried ask anyone who could answer him as he felt an uncomfortably hot liquid roll down his face and arms and drip from his fingers.

"All recognize the power of our Lord ... and give fealty to our savior, Azor Ahai. For he is reborn. All hail the one true King." Jon heard the exotic voice of the Red Priestess Melisandre sing out. "In this dreaded hour he has come back to the world of the living to save us. And in his hand is Lightbringer ... pulled from the fires of passion just as the great heart of R'hllor depicted." Slowly her blurry heart shaped face appeared over his and she smiled deeply down at him. "Rise and see the world you now rule, my King."

He did not know who it was that sat him up and he did not care as he looked down his right hand. "No ..." Jon murmured with all his strength as he tasted the blood clinging to his lips. "How?" He asked them in a whimper as he followed the groove of his sword which was buried deep within Val's bared breast. With a great cry of pain he pulled his blade from her heart and cradled her body with all the gentleness he could manage in his state. "You ... can't." Jon then brushed several loose hairs back from her comely face and kissed her pale but cold lips. "Please wake up ... I can't lose you, not now." His free hand roamed down her body and came to stop on a significant bulge above her waist. "All of you leave ... NOW!" Jon roared as a crowd of faceless bodies left him in the crypts illuminated by ironwood torches which burned a bright blue flame.

One of the few faces he saw in the darkness was the stone face of Princess Shireen who looked petrified of him. To him her fear provided a sick satisfaction as he pounded his fist off the stone floor of the crypts and cuddled Val close to himself. _You didn't deserve any of this._ The Stark spent a great time in the darkness of the crypts ... the torches had long burned themselves to nothing before he even pulled his eyes from his beloved wife. When finally he wiped the blood from his face he felt that his knees had been torn open from kneeling on the rough stone. She was heavier than he remembered but it was wieght he would carry for a thousand years if it could bring her back to him. He had little idea how deep they had brought him into the crypts and from what he could tell it was a old section as many statues of past Starks had crumbled away to rubble. The only thing that guided him through the maze was the sounds of life above ground and when he spotted his grandfather Rickard's tomb he knew where he was and where he was going.

As Jon stumbled by his uncle Brandon's tomb his legs gave out and he fell with Val atop him and begun to cry again. "It's not fair." Jon moaned to the long dead and then looked to closest face for answers but his aunt Lyanna held no answers for him. She only expressed her own sadness for him as the frost around her eyes melted to tears. "I didn't want anyone to die for me ... especially not her. And-and my child." Jon sobbed into Val's honeyed hair.

"Your aunt was special to me." Echoed a voice that Jon did not wish to hear now of all times.

Jon turned around to glare at the short crannogman and to his surprise the man did not flinch even once before his gaze as he was not looking at him. "She's dead because of you and that Red Priestess. I would have stayed dead if you told me that she was the price."

Howland Reed still stared at Lyanna Stark's statue and Jon saw a small tear lingering in his green eyes. "Your wife willingly gave herself to that Red Priestess. She gave her life for the smallest chance at returning yours and in response to her sacrifice you cry over her corpse. You do not honor her memory like that Jon Snow. You don't honor a loved one by doing that at all." It infuriated Jon that the mud man would dare speak to him about honor when he did nothing but watch his love offer herself like some animal for slaughter. "Did your father ever tell you about Harrenhal?"

"What?" Jon was at a loss for what the short Lord of the Neck was getting at. "Its some ruined castle in the Riverlands." Jon remembered Maester Luwin teaching Robb and him of how the Targaryen's destroyed it and burned King Harren Hoare alive.

"It was during the tournament of Harrenhal that she saved me from a group of southern squires. I was on a pilgrimage to the Isle of Faces when they besot upon me with insults ... when I ignored their japes they beat me." Howland stated wistfully to himself it seemed to Jon. "I was just a timid and craven boy then ... if I had the courage at the time I would have pummeled them all but alas I did not. Lyanna ... sweet Lya, ran in looking all the part of a warrior queen; swinging her blunted sword about and cracked one of the boy's teeth she hit him so hard." Howland exclaimed and then wiped his runny nose.

"That was the same tournament where Prince Rhaegar kidnapped her was it not?" Jon didn't know why he was humoring the man other then it felt right at the time.

Lord Reed didn't contain his sad laughter and informed him. "It wasn't quite as simple as all that I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

The crannogman walked closer to Jon and sat before Lyanna Stark's tomb. "Your uncle Benjen had invited me to join them after Lya saved me. I felt so unworthy at the time that someone as low as myself was allowed to even eat amongst them. Who was I but a frog eater from the Neck? That was what every other person outside of the Neck called me, except for them. I supped with them, laughed with them, and they made me feel wanted around them. Lyanna, Benjen, Eddard, and Brandon." Howland said their names like some prayer. "Lyanna and Benjen decided later that same night that those squires who tormented me weren't punished enough. So we set out to punish them our own way. I think it was Ben who first proposed we humiliate them by besting the knights they squired for on the lists."

"My uncle Benjen wanted to humiliate them?" Jon could scarcely believe his uncle capable of such a petty thing. It seemed to be a thing far below what he knew of him.

"It was a much simpler time. We all certainly less responsibilities ... we could afford to think of nothing but petty things like that." Howland explained to Jon with fondness in his voice. "We were all children living in the aftermath of the Ninepenny Kings and all boys dreamed of was glory and all girls dreamed of love and romance. Even I was anxious to prove and make a name for myself I'm embarrassed to admit."

"What do you want from me?" Jon asked in confusion and anger.

Howland's deep green eyes snapped to Jon and the latter felt cowed before the man's strong gaze. It wasn't threatening Jon would say ... just demanding. "I want you to listen and listen to me well. This is a story I've held onto for seventeen years and I won't another year longer." The Lord of the Neck wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and started again. "Benjen won a javelin tossing competition for some coin to purchase armor while Lyanna saw to it that Robert got drunk and she stole his purse to buy a palfrey from a farmstead nearby. While they did that I forged our false name on the lists ... they hardly even noticed a boy as small as I was. Never questioned if I belonged or not. I even found a plain shield in the Whent's armory along with a sextet of lances, I left some coin ... I did, not that they even noticed anything was missing I'm sure." Howland looked up at the statue of Lyanna and looked ready to cry as he continued. "Lya thought it best to adorn the shield with a laughing weirwood in honor of our goals and of the laughter the spectators and Old Gods would have."

"Did you beat them on the lists then?" Jon doubted it from how the crannogman spoke but he did seem a confident warrior now.

"No, I was too afraid of falling from the horse ... and of failing everyone. I'd never even ridden a horse in my life before Harrenhal. I thought Ben would ride in my place but Brandon's squire was incapacitated after a night of drinking with Robert and so he needed his younger brother to squire for him." A small snicker then left Howland's lips. "So to ensure the laugh would remain ours Lya donned the armor and rode in my stead. We practiced her voice and mannerisms all the morn before the tourney started and by the end she sounded like some giant with her damned booming voice."

"And so she bested them." Jon murmured and thought to himself that she sounded quite a bit like Arya. _You would have done the same for anyone._ Jon even broke a smile at the thought of his sister swinging around a tourney sword and cracking Joffrey Baratheon's head open. _You would have done the same too._ Jon looked down at his wife's face and knew she would have done much more than humiliate them.

The crannogman nodded. "After that it seemed every man declared they would unmask the Laughing Knight. The Storm Lord was the most ardent of them until he drunkenly stumbled into some maid's bed later that night and forgot the whole affair. He didn't deserve Lya, he was a bully and could hardly stay faithful to one cup of wine let alone a woman. Let alone one such as Lyanna ... Ned knew that but Lord Rickard overruled his children on the matter. The damn maester Walys planted southern ambitions in the good man's head and they never released their grip of him. It was with good intentions, I do know that. Connect the North with the southern Kingdoms like never before ... foster friendships and kinships amongst them and start actively taking part in the future. But Robert was a cruel fate for Lyanna and even to this day I cannot blame her fully."

"Blame her? Prince Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped her! How can you blame her for any of that, she was your friend."

"Again it's not as simple as the tales like to make it I can assure you. Take it from one who was there. After the Mad King ordered the Silver Prince to unmask the Laughing Knight we panicked. Many of those who promised the same thing forgot about it within the same hour, but Prince Rhaegar had much more conviction than his peers and we knew that."

Jon did remember whisperings of the story from Old Nan once a long time ago and while most of those memories eluded him he did remember one thing well. "But he did fail. No one ever unmasked the Knight of the Laughing Tree ... Old Nan was very specific of that."

"He was successful." Howland spoke in a grave and mournful tone then. "I tried to hold them up and give Lya time to hide, but Ser Arthur had little trouble in disarming me ... he even praised my courage after. Prince Rhaegar laughed at our gall when he caught Lyanna hiding in a weirwood. I thought we would all be executed until the White Bull took our armor and sunk it in the God's Eye with stones. I never did learn what the Silver Prince said to her that day ... only that after she was adamant to never marry Robert. Ned of course knew the moment he saw Lya in armor that is was her ... I-I even think he was proud of her in someway."

Jon knew that after Prince Rhaegar won the tourney he had spurned his own wife Elia Martell in favor of Lyanna Stark but he never would have dreamed of such a story behind it. "Did they ... love each other? Was that why he took her?"

"I don't think that came until much later ... at the time he admired her and her courage I think. And mayhaps he felt the crown of blue roses was his way of telling her that, a consolation for her bravery. Sometimes I wonder if it would have worked out for the better if I would have admitted what we did to Lord Rickard or Brandon. But I was afraid of Ben and Lya hating me ... and with them I felt important and like I was their kin."

"They were your friends and you loved them too much to betray them ... even if it was the honorable thing to do." Jon's mind reflected back to the words his father had said to him. "I would have done the same as you I believe."

"Even if you knew the price? Even if it cost the life of your Lord and his heir? Of thousands upon thousands of innocent men, women, and children?" Howland asked Jon desperately. "Because I'm not sure myself. In the half year before Rhaegar ran off with Lyanna, Benjen told me they kept secret correspondence with each other that their bloody maester kept hidden from Lord Rickard. When I heard that Lya went missing from Winterfell and was seen with Prince Rhaegar near the Trident I cursed myself for being so naive and selfish. Ben didn't realize his mistake in helping them escape until Brandon was arrested in King's Landing. I still think that was why he left for the Wall after the war ended ... after all what boy could live with themselves with everything that came to follow? After I heard of Lord Rickard's death I knew that I had to atone for my crimes to Starks however ... so I led my people out of the Neck and to war for the first time in two centuries." Howland's hand wrapped around a loose stone on the crypt floor and he tossed it far into the darkness. "When I heard of how the Storm Lord slew the Silver Prince on the Trident I wept for Lyanna more than I wept for even my own mother when she passed. Cursed myself for letting my best friend suffer such a thing. It was later that same night that I came clean to Eddard and told him of all we had done. I hoped he would kill me and spare me of my guilt, but he simply forgave me and reminded me of our duty to Lya as she was still alive and needed us. Did your father ever tell you of the Tower of Joy?"

"No ... he never spoke of the war with me or any of his real children." Jon remembered how Robb and he would beg their father to tell them war stories and how he always spurned them.

Howland chuckled slightly at that notion. "He always preferred to keep his pain hidden away didn't he? No men, only Gods were allowed to hear and share his pains." Howland stood up from the cold ground and stared deeply at Lyanna's stone effigy for the strength to tell the rest of his painful past. "It was in the red mountains of Dorne that we found the remaining Kingsguard. Will Dustin, Ethan Glover, headstrong Martyn who drew first, big Theo Wull was the second too I remember, Ser Mark Ryswell, Ned, and I. We all stood before the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms and faced down our heroes with nothing but fear and regret in our hearts." The Lord of the Neck let his hand brush Lyanna Stark's stone face for just a moment before he let it go slack. "We could all hear her wails of agony as we fought. The White Bat fell alongside poor William when they struck each other down. Ned himself took no pleasure in the act when he beheaded the White Bull with a lucky swing. And when the sand and dust of our skirmish subsided for the briefest moment I found in horror that everyone but Ser Arthur Dayne and Ned were gone. We begged of him to drop his sword and yield to us but he would not and could not."

"You both bested Ser Arthur Dayne by yourselves?"

"No man living could ever best him, he was otherwordly with a blade. He easily bested me again like he did before only this time I knew that I couldn't lose. My father had taught me the rules of our gift when I was hardly a knee high. The greatest abomination of all skinchangers one who enters another man's. But when Ser Arthur had his blade at Ned's throat I knew I had no choice. I'd never tried it before that day and I never have since but it worked just as I needed it to. I stopped the Sword of the Morning before his swing could meet flesh and tossed Dawn away. He could have lived and been taken prisoner if only Ned knew what I had done."

"What was it that he didn't know?" Jon couldn't grasp his meaning.

Howland's age started to show itself as he must of felt the same pain that he did that day so long ago. "When Arthur hesitated Ned ended him while I was still in the man's mind. The pain was excruciating, I felt everything he did and even followed him to the darkness for a time until I was finally able to detach myself from his conscious. To this day I can still feel the damage it left on my mind, and since then I've lost most control of my abilities. You have them yourself, you demonstrated that to me while you were inside your direwolf." The sad little man continued on with great sorrow. "I never could follow Ned into the tower, it was too hard ... I felt too much guilt. But when all sounds died I knew my friend was gone and that I was the most horrible man that ever lived." A single tear rolled down his face. "I never even told her goodbye or how much she meant to me."

Jon shifted Val in his arms and kissed her perfect nose. "I wish I could have met her, my Aunt. I wish she could have met Val. Father never really talked about her with me, I just knew that he missed her greatly." Howland possessed a strange look in his eye then and pulled his dagger again. With great power and precision he thrust it into the stone lid of Lyanna's tomb and Jon nearly lunged at the man but stopped himself as he couldn't let his wife go. "Have you lost your sanity? Stop it!"

"Be calm, I would never harm her of all people." The crannogman pried it open just enough to slip his hand inside and slowly he pulled his arm back to reveal a dusty cloak of black. "It's been so long ... I was nearly afraid it would have rotted away by now." Howland exclaimed as he unfurled it and Jon took note of several speckles of blood that mared it. "Eddard was in the tower with Lyanna for a such long time ... and when he finally returned to me it was with her in one arm and a tiny babe in the other." He then placed the cloak lightly at Jon's knees and backed away.

Jon with his free hand untangled the cloak and couldn't believe what he was hearing as he stared at the red dragon that adorned the cloak. "I've never heard of a baby between them ... did it live?" Jon asked the man in bewilderment.

"Aye, he lived." Howland said just above a whisper. "Lya made Ned swear that he would keep her child safe with her dying breath." The little man closed Lyanna's tomb again and looked back up the effigy with pain on his face. "We brought her and her child back to Winterfell after the war. And my friend ... one of the bravest men to ever have lived told the world that the boy was not his sister's. He lied and told the world that he was result of his unfaithfulness to fulfil his promise to Lya and protect her virtue at the cost of his own." Jon felt light headed and before he could utter a word the Lord of the Neck smiled at Lyanna and finished with great pride. "You were that child ... are that child ... you are their song of Ice and Fire."


	67. A Crown

Arianne:

 

She ran a soft brush through her black ringlets while eyeing her little cousin who had seen fit to not bath that day and instead rode the snowy hills on her golden sand steed. If Elia Sand was closer she wagered she would have been able to smell the pine and horse on her too. "You had a moon and a half and you have nothing to show for it. You assured and promised me that he would be clay in your hand."

"I tried." Elia exclaimed. "But he's so dull and even if he wasn't Edric pulls away from me every time I just touch him."

 _Try harder._ Arianne thought, but knew better than to say aloud. "He's still a boy and you're telling me you can't get a rise out of him? Maybe I was too trusting in you ... maybe your was right and you are still a child who should be sent back to the water gardens to play with the other children."

"I'm not a child!" Elia defended herself with a rise in her voice that made her look all the child she claimed she wasn't. "I'm not." It was quieter then. "But he's in mourning for some whore he met in the Riverlands who took his first. She just went missing without saying goodbye and he constantly moans to me of it when I try to give him hints."

Arianne put the brush down at her vanity glass and looked over her shoulder at Elia. "I hear a lot of excuses. You had nearly everyday with him and I myself have had mayhaps a tenth of that to get closer to our King and it sounds like I've done more." The Princess of Dorne dabbed her finger into a crystal tumbler and touched herself up with the perfume. "You had better hope Edric returns from the North with all of his parts working. Dorne needs you now more than ever to help us secure the Stormlands. We are in a very fortunate position where we could likely be in control of every part of Westeros."

Her little cousin smirked dangerously and replied. "Well if you're so much better than I why don't we switch our roles? I'd rather try myself with King Aegon ... or even Lord Arryn." She remembered well just how Lord Arryn's eyes liked to wander and would have almost felt sympathy for the man's wife if he was not so fair.

However that situation wouldn't benefit anyone should Elia be caught in his bed and so she lambasted her cousin. "And what of his lady wife Sansa Stark? We can not afford a controversy right now and if you spread your little legs for Lord Arryn than that rather removes the chance of brokering a match between Trystane and Arya Stark does it not?"

"Oh bugger Trystane, he's still heartbroken over losing Myrcella and it's not like I would be caught." She exclaimed. "What do you take me for? Some love struck little girl?"

_No, a little harlot who overestimates herself._ Arianne knew that very well. "I don't want to take you for anything but what I need you to be. Which is a charming and delightful women that needs to seduce and trick the little Storm Lord into marrying you. If you can't manage that than a bastard would suffice too. I could raise some ire around court and shame the Baratheon name until he does what we want."  _Prove himself a good lord and man._ Arianne nearly snickered at how easy it would be to fool the boy and would have pitied him had he not been Robert's seed or had a future mate in a Martell.

"It doesn't matter, the word is that the King wants to marry the Stark girl to Edric. And she doesn't want to marry him at all if the rumors are true, seems to view herself as a free spirit like my elder sisters. Trystane won't enjoy her after lusting over Myrcella and dreaming of her as his wife." Elia had a fair point as from what she had seen the girls could not have been better contrasts. Myrcella all graces, charm, kindness, and meekness. Arya Stark all wit, fire, sneers, and danger. However one thing the latter had over the former was her looks. Trystane remembered a whole Myrcella not marred by facial wounds and the Stark girl while not an ideal bride was undeniably pretty and that would be enough for her little brother. "Believe me, I talked with her and she won't let herself be married against her will."

"I do, but she has a Tully mother and that means she holds family first. With the right words anyone can be convinced." Arianne was sure of that above all else and knew her cousin was just shortsighted. "We'll tell her how much power and influence the Starks will gain from an alliance to the Martells. They'll be married to both the Targaryens through me and the Baratheons through you ... should you succeed."

Elia knew she had no leg to stand on and so she added under her breath. "Say what you will and plan what you may, but I'm telling you it won't work. It would be better to attempt a match between her younger brother and one of my younger sisters, mayhaps Dorea or even Loreza."

_Idiot._ "The Wild Wolf is betrothed to a Blackwood by King Aegon's hand. Not only that stands in the way, but both Ser Blackfish and Lady Sansa Arryn have approved of the match." Her cousin's head lolled over and Elia picked at a tear on her riding garment not doubt made by an errant branch. "Should I somehow betroth the boy to a Martell I would make enemies out of two families where a friendship could have been grown." Arianne stood up from her bench and strolled over to her cousin. She spoke softly and tried to soothe her cousin. "I'm not trying to be cruel, but it just won't happen. I can't afford to anger our King after all the inroads I have made. If we watch our step the only opposition I will have for queenship will be the Tyrell girl." And as long as Tyene worked her magic in Baelor the excommunication of Margaery Tyrell would endure regardless of how much grain the Reach threw at the High Sparrow.

"Aye, I'll try harder." That pleased Arianne greatly that her cousin finally saw reason, but then Elia added with hard eyes and a grave seriousness. "Though Trystane will have to break the Stark girl's heart of ice himself, I know that look in her eyes very well. It was one my father had and she won't be ruled by anything but her heart."

Arianne nodded her head and brushed back Elia's tight braid over her shoulder. "I'll see what I can do about that." The Martell princess doubted her father would let his third child leave home for fear of losing him. _I won't sacrifice your brother for one of your ambitious plots._ She could have wagered those would be his words exactly and could hear him saying them in her head. _Marry the dragon and forget the wolves._ He would add but he was wrong. Robert's rebellion proved one thing to her and that was the need for sprawling alliances with all kinds of lords you may not like to need but need all the same.

"But how could they beat the Targaryens?" She had asked her mother at a tender age years after the war had ended. It never made sense to her that an alliance of stag and wolf could best the fearsome might of a dragon. The Dornish never bowed to any but the Targaryens and even they failed to beat her people by might and had to marry them for strength. Her mother was never in a good way during those times as her father drew further into himself in depression. It only got so bad after Quentyn was sent away to Yronwood that she returned to Norvos in the dead of the night. It was years after during one of her many history lessons that the meanings of alliances and what they pertained gave her the answer to what she asked. "It wasn't just the stags and wolves, but also the falcons and trouts and the traitorous lions. It was only then that the dragons were felled by trickery." She explained to little Trystane who asked her the same question while she tucked him in.

"Just stay away from Lord Arryn and be caring and comforting for Edric." Elia meant to speak up in some form of argument but she cut her off. "I will have Aegon within the next moon when he returns from the North." Arianne leaned in and tapped her nose gently. "And you will have him too. I don't mind sharing, El."

The Sand smirked and nodded her head. "Fine," She bunched up her torn dress and stood from the cabinet with a devious plan for the Stag brewing in her brain. "I'll hold you to that promise."

As her cousin made to leave the room Arianne called out. "And be friendly with Myrcella if you see her." It didn't hurt to remind her even if it infuriated Elia that she did. "She is still useful as the Imp's heir." Her cousin did not acknowledge her as she left the room but she would take that into account the Princess knew.

It was a few moments later that Daemon let himself into the room and at the perfect time no less. "You really should get ready, Lady Arryn's gathering in the parlor will be starting soon." Arianne wondered if he was just bored waiting outside or if he knew she was getting dressed. "Trying to entice me?" The handsome man asked her as she stepped out of her morning shift and was left with nothing but her bare dusky skin.

"I was going to ask you the same. You knew that after Elia left I would be choosing my silks." Arianne let her hand brush over her hardening nipple as she bent over and removed a dress of yellow and white from her travel chest. "Most women would be shamed to be seen by her sword shield in this state."

"Most women wouldn't have done with me what you have. When we were just fumbling children who had no clue what the differences in our statuses meant." Ser Daemon exclaimed as he scratched his short brown beard and did not try to hide his ogling of her body.

The Dornish Princess then slipped on her dress and would not give the man anymore. "Mayhaps, or more likely they would not admit it." As she passed by him she kissed his cheek and let him follow behind towards the parlor. "Are you going to escort me?"

Ser Daemon grunted and followed behind with his heavy steps. It was a short while later that he opened his mouth. "I don't feel us safe here with so many Tyrells around each corner." If he really felt threatened Arianne wondered why he would speak so freely in the winding halls of the Red Keep.

"Hold your tongue. If you would like we could speak about ... that ... another time." She promised him as her eyes shifted up and down the halls which appeared empty. _The Spider could be listening around any of these corners._ That had ever been a looming fear in her mind since stepping foot in the Red Keep.

The chosen room for the merriment was rather smaller than she would have guessed it would be. It did bring her some comfort that Ser Daemon was present with her after eyeing two rough men with falcons sewn on their chests. "M'lady Arianne, they have been eagerly expecting you." Spoke one of the men with northern overtones in his voice who had a rather stocky build and plain face.

"She's a Princess, you rude bastard." Warned her paramour who seemed to always look for an opportunity to defend her 'honor'.

To her great surprise the northern man did not hesitate before her superior Daemon in the least and shoved him back roughly. "Watch who you're callin' a bastard you 'hore."

The Sand took it with all the friendliness that was not intended and obviously was not intimidated by the man and shoved him right back. "Oh, you think you're some right old hero don't chu'. I've taken shites more fearsome looking than you and slain men twice as big as yourself. So why don't you go take a long walk off a short pier before you get hurt, you northern cunt."

The second guard grabbed the northern man by the shoulder and whispered loud enough. "Don't start something I can't finish for you. Lady Arryn doesn't need this type of trouble right now."

"I'm just going to forget you said all that." The northern man replied with a sneer. "And for whatever little it is worth ... I do apologize for my honest mistake, Princess." He then walked down the hall with a great fury about him that Arianne did not doubt would be released on either a skin of wine or between a woman's legs.

As the doors to the tiny room opened she first took notice of the auburn haired beauty that was Sansa Stark. Lady Arryn was dressed in astonishingly fair dress of green and white made of silk and intricate patterns of lace. The reason the handsome Lord Arryn married her was quite obvious, but surrounded by other ladies with a bright smile on her face and bright sun shading her she was something else all together. Arianne hated to admit that if it came to contest between the two she would lose to the Stark as it came down to pure looks. "Ah, Princess Arianne, you're here. We nearly were ready to start without you." The eldest Stark girl beamed.

Each one of the many girls took turns bowing their head to her and she graced each of them with a smile. On the Stark's left was the cute little Bethany Blackwood who seemed to be recovering from the news of her father's passing with puffy eyes. Lady Carellen Smallwood who had fled from her home in the Riverlands to Oldtown after the war of Five Kings broke and then to King's Landing after the Ironborn attacks started. Ysilla Royce who was wife to a Redfort whose name escaped Arianne was also there and looked to be the eldest of the girls. Next to her however was someone she did not think to see. "Myrcella, I did not expect to see you here." The Martell put on her best face and greeted the little lioness who in another life would have been her sister by law.

The scarred girl meekly looked up from her long golden tresses with big green eyes. "I only saw her just yesterday when the army left the city. She was wishing her uncle a short goodbye and I thought it would be nice to have her join us today." The Lady Arryn exclaimed with a pleasant smile.

"Ah, yes." Arianne exclaimed and then cursed herself for missing the event. It was nothing less than a gaffe ... and a foolish one at that.  Why wouldn't she have been there? She remembered it was then that she lounged with several ladies from the Stormlands who also shunned the Hand's parting. It was a rather fun evening of wine, laughs, and gossip which she would ensure the castle flourished in the coming years with enough excitement and joy to turn even the King's scowl. "I so wish I was there, but my maid mistakenly believed it was on another day."

"It was no trouble. You're busy and have more pressing matters. It was nice to speak with Sansa again." Myrcella seemed genuine and that was no good.

The red wolf smiled just so kindly at Myrcella's admission. "Please sit, Princess Arianne." Slowly and tentatively did Arianne sit to ensure it did not seem anything but of her own will. "Please help yourself to whatever catches your eye. The lemon cakes are especially delicious with sugar." 

The Martell did as the others did but only after they had taken their desired sweets. The rosewater tea was rather good though the tartness of the lemon cakes were too much for her palate and she instead shared a white cream and mint cake with Ysilla Royce. For a short while the girls did nothing but quietly chew and trade smiles with each other. "Pregnancy becomes of you, Ysilla." Mentioned the Smallwood girl.

Lady Redfort's pale cheeks gained a small amount of color and she shook her head. "No ... I'm fat. Look at me." From what Arianne had seen of Lord Royce the family already had size on their side and even then Ysilla's belly was quite large. Her own mother never grew that large and neither did Ellaria in all of her pregnancies. "Mychel hasn't even touched me since maester Duncan told us."

"Mayhaps he fears for the babe?" Lady Arryn exclaimed and took the very words from Arianne's tongue. "And you're not fat ... you are the very visage of what motherhood should be." She laid it on too thick not that any of the other foolish girls seemed to notice. "I hope I can take to it as well as you have."

"You honor me, Sansa." The way each of the girl's so easily spoke each other's name was also becoming alarming to the Martell. It spoke to a relative level of familiarity that she did not have with any of them yet. It spoke to a modicum of skill for gab that the Stark possessed which was something Arianne would be wary of in the future. Rumors spoke of a meek woman thoroughly over her head in the south who was blessed to be born into the Starks and for being given a face and body which men found pleasing. They spoke of her being kind and only possessing a dim-witted but handsome husband. The rumors in this case seemed to be wholly wrong, she had a gift for making friends and that was a talent not to be underestimated.

Her words did however bring to mind a new and intriguing fact. "If you don't mind my intrepidness, where is your sister Lady Arya? I expected her to be joining us." It would have been par for the day if the Stark girl through sheer folly outmaneuvered her. It was mind-boggling that an empty-headed girl a decade her junior was able to cut off her planning. She needed to make some acquaintance with the little She-wolf and for that to happen she needed to actually speak with her. 

That gave the auburn haired Stark a slight pause and her eyes wavered ever so lightly that served to make her look only more innocent. "Against my better judgement and wishes ... Arya has decided to travel with the royal army. She misses Winterfell quite greatly and wants to return to it as soon as the Gods allow."

"She's going off to war?" That was an intriguing fact that would serve for gossip bait, but was not something she had planned for. If she had only known just how far the girl's rambunctiousness went she would have asked for Obara to follow along as well. Instead her father squandered Obara on hunting Darkstar, she would not do anything but get in the way. Even she the strongest of her uncle's children was nothing more than a mosquito compared to the Dayne. Areo Hotah was the only man she would trust to match Gerold in arms and that was something she couldn't say about any of the Kingsguard or even her own paramour.

"No, she'll be kept far away from the fighting. My husband promised me." Lady Sansa exclaimed in way that betrayed her own doubts and she then tried to direct the conversation again. "I do have to thank you for the gift of bath powders. It truly was a splendid surprise, only it made it so relaxing I very nary fell asleep."

The gift had not come cheaply and it pleased her greatly that it was appreciated. "I'm a very glad, my mother sent them to me from Norvos. She always sends me so many though that I couldn't use them all if I bathed twice every day." Though the increasing cold in the capital sometimes made her wish to. How anyone could live in weather even remotely similar for their entire lives was an enigma to the Martell who still dreamt of the warmth of Dorne. The rest of the evening had gone rather flaccid and dull and only improved a handful of times like when Lady Smallwood had been coerced into playing her viola by Bethany. After the mood had soured again as the girls bemoaned theirs fears for their husbands who were marching to war. Only Lady Arryn had put forth a front of ease that hid the fears that she must of actually possessed.

It was after the sun had fallen that they broke for the day and with parting goodbyes they all promised to meet again soon for more meandering conversations. If only they could get over the manners that were drilled into them from a young age then Arianne felt she might have actually enjoyed talking with them. The first to leave was Lady Arryn with her little Blackwood maiden which seemed odd. Lady Ysilla Redfort left next with help from the Smallwood girl who assisted the heavily pregnant woman to her cramped apartments in some far off corner of the castle. Little Myrcella had tried to leave by her lonesome but Arianne took that opportunity to speak alone with the scarred lioness. It was a true pity what Darkstar did to her face. She was once so pretty and now while only half her face was ruined the wound drew all gazes away from what good was left of it. The only thing she had left was a quick wit which she hopefully would learn to use to her advantage in whatever life she had left.

"I was sorry to hear of your brother's fate." Arianne exclaimed as she walked with the girl to the Hand's new chambers.

Myrcella's green eyes hazed over and she bowed her head. "As was I. He was a good and sweet boy, a bit simple but always happy. While I could take Joffrey's bullying Tommen could not. He was a sweet doe and not nearly the stag that Joffrey pretended to be. Joffrey was a vulture if nothing else, he saw the weakness and lack of confidence our brother had and tormented him over it." The little lioness stiffened her back and looked straight ahead in pure confidence. "He made loud japes about killing Tommen's kittens and wanted to make my little brother feel as awful as he did. When I told father of what he did, he would discipline Joffrey but it did no good, it only made things worse." The Martell wondered what father she meant. "When I would tell mother she would make excuses and make me promise to not tell anyone."

Arianne knew that Joffrey was a putrid and vile human from the talks people had of him. She remembered quite vividly the recollections that Nymeria had gathered for her. "He used to have Sansa Stark beaten and stripped in front of the court, and not one person said a word in her defence. Quite a pile of cunts these so-called good lords and ladies are." Nymeria had told her in all the confidence and security the night time gave them, which was nearly a fortnight ago. "Some even say that he raped her, some say that she never went to Harrold's bed a virgin." The Martell Princess wasn't sure she believed that, it could have just been slanderous rumors thrown at the newest addition of the court. However one rumor was undoubtedly true. "I have heard even darker stories of a certain Petyr Baelish raping her during her tenure in the Vale. It is only whispered of course, but I think that could be the reason he frequents whores beds instead of hers. To him she is a soiled bride only good for her blood to him."

"The High Septon says that a child as innocent as he was will be eternally catered to in the afterlife." The dirty man had a fervor in his eyes and spoke with such fire during his sermon that Arianne was sure his heart would give. It was more a speech that lent itself to the prelude to war and not the peace that everyone hungered for. She longed for the next letter from Tyene to learn of what the High Sparrow desired. He wasn't a lustful man, or a greedy septon, he didn't even seem enamored by the prospect of grand septs of gold and ivory which worried her.

Myrcella stopped her fidgeting hands which had played with the hem of her emerald dress. "And what would the Seven know about that?"

Of all the things the Martell expected to hear from the lioness that was not it. "Well they claim that those who live just and virtuous in this life will be rewarded in the next for their faith. Your younger brother seemed to fit that mold quite well."

“In the Seven’s eyes I’m an abomination that should be ended. According to the very faith I’ve prayed to my entire life my life is a sin.” Myrcella exclaimed steadily as Arianne thought back to the japes that were thrown at the girl around court. “I don’t want my life to be a sin. I want to be something more … I want to make my father proud of me. I want my uncle to be proud to call me his niece. I want to prove to all those two-faced liars and awful people that I’m not what they want me to be.”

“And what is it they want you to be?” Arianne asked her.

Myrcella smiled briefly and showed real nerve. “My mother. For all of my father-” she paused and regained her words to correct herself. “For all of King Robert’s flaws, she should not have done what she did to him. She was needlessly selfish and cruel … and I will never sink to her atrocities.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll succeed. The whole realm will benefit from another good woman and heir to the Westerlands. I do so hope you’ll remain my friend after I become queen.” Arianne exclaimed happily at the Lannister girl.

The little pre blossomed lion took a long time to respond to her then as they arrived at her apartments. “King Aegon … he should have every reason to hate me. My father … King Robert tried to end his line. My grandfather is the reason his sister and mother are dead. I would hate me if I was him, but he apologized. He told me he was sorry for the death of my family. I hoped that he would be angry with me and curse me as a devil because of my mother and ... uncle Jaime.” Myrcella stopped at the door to her apartments and held the golden handle for strength. “I want to be something good for the realm, I want to return all the trust my uncle has in me unto him. I want to make up for my mother’s sins and prove myself better, I know it's a long shot and I may be a foolish girl for desiring it. But I want to be his wife and being his queen comes second in my mind unlike it does to you.” Her green eyes met with the Martell's dark eyes and she continued with no fear for her own safety. "My uncle warned me all about you, I know that you don't care one bit about me and only what I can do for you. You would take power simply for the sake of calling yourself queen, just like my mother. But I want it to better my home, I want it to fix the mess my family has made of the Seven Kingdoms."

“You ungrateful … little ... “ Arianne was nearly speechless at the gall of the ugly little monster. “I wish you would have died in Dorne. I wish Darkstar would have killed you. We were nothing but kind to you and now you wish to steal what will be mine? You are right about one thing, you are a foolish little girl whose mind has gone from poor inbreeding.”

The lion bitch didn’t show any signs of fear or even hurt as the Martell ran her down and after she finished Myrcella spoke up. “Say what you will, but words can’t hurt me any longer.” The girl tried to flee into her room but Arianne caught her arm and her nails dug deeply and stopped her in her tracks. “Let me go.” The girl demanded in a steady voice

“You know if you walk away now, we will be enemies … I won’t tolerate any competition.” Arianne warned. It was pure lunacy that a little girl so low in the world would attempt to undermine her. The crown was hers by every right, no other could compete or compare in brains or beauty or bloodline.

"Let go, I know you can't hurt me. If you do my uncle will know it was you and he will tell the King and all your aspirations of being queen will be at an end. So let me go and leave me alone." Myrcella rubbed at the nail marks on her arm left from Arianne's grasp then. "So I hope I've spelled it out clearly for you that I know your game and won't be a part of it. Sansa knows your game as well if you're wondering and she's not only better but much more discreet about it."

"And what is it she wants? A crown for her dumb husband? The North? Or all the Seven Kingdoms?" Arianne needed to know like a drowning man needed air.

Myrcella however brushed her hair over her scarred face and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. But know that she isn't the same girl who was betrothed to my brother. She's colder now, wiser too." The girl stepped into her chambers and her now bleeding arm rested on the door frame. "And I'm not the same childish girl you knew in Dorne."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a long one and I see no end in sight which means it could be two weeks to a month before the next update or I could get inspired and give it to you tomorrow.
> 
> Not my best work I'll freely admit. Lost the chapter twice due to dumb mistakes and my checklist I write before every chapter didn't save so i had to try to rewrite what I needed to happen on the fly.


	68. The Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one so get comfy and buckle up.

Arya:

 

The woods were alive in laughter and the men were drowned with wine and ale as the whores plied the only trade they knew in the darkest reaches of the camps. Mist weaved its way through the lines of tents and pavilions and broke against the flames of the fire as she watched the cinders burn to nothing. Tied to every standing tree and fallen one too was a half dozen warhorses that would starve and die in the cold winds of the north she knew. Every so often a drunken man would stumble passed her and Ser Caron would give them threatening sneer and they never repeated their mistake. The wind provided an almost soothing noise as the Kingsguard's white chainmail chinked against his surcoat and the sword at his hip cut into the wet stump he rested on when he would tremble. "Bloody cold." The man would always complain before scratching his haired chin.

King Aegon was sitting across from her and he would play a single note from his lute when the man did so and said. "It will be colder the farther we go." His eyes would drift to the flames then and his body would lose a bit of tension for just a moment before he would stiffen his back again.

"It feels fine to me." Rickon would exclaim while he had his fun picking at the flames with a stick which was burned black on the end. "I like the cold. Not the snow."

After everyone's attention drew inwards to themselves Arya would work up the nerve to look at the Inn that guarded the crossroads for any small sign of the smith she once knew. It seemed she could only steal a momentary glance before the King's hawkish eyes centered on her. "What?" She asked him and he would shrug his shoulders. "Then stop looking at me. It's annoying."

"Mayhaps I should take a walk." The King murmured and stood up from the log he rested his body on. "Keep an eye on them." He ordered the Tarth woman who in response nodded her head and pulled closer to Arya at his desire.

Ser Caron then went after his King and the Stark girl shot a quick look to the three other members of the Kingsguard to make sure they still slept. "Have you ever stayed there? The Inn."

Brienne nodded and threw a fresh cut of wood on the flames. "Twice, the first time I was captured by the Brotherhood. The second time ... I was captured by King Aegon."

"I was held hostage by the Hound the second time I graced those doors." She mused as Rickon got up from the dirt and sat next to her. It brought a tiny smile to her face when he cuddled up to her leg for warmth.

"And what about the first time?" The Maid of Tarth asked innocently as she wrapped a small shawl made of rabbit fur about her shoulders.

Arya took her time to answer the woman. Made sure to think of the right words. The memories of those simpler time were some she still longed for and childishly wished would somehow return again. "With my father, it was after I left Winterfell for the first time." Her younger brother fished his hand into her saddlebag and pulled out a hunk of dried pork and then tore it in two. "It was close to here when I thought I lost Nymeria forever." Her faithful companion then lifted her head off the girl's bedding at the mention of her name.

"And now you're going back home." Her little brother exclaimed before he bit into the tough meat like an animal. "And with Nymeria and Shaggydog." She nodded and took a smaller piece of meat from Rickon herself.

"It's no inn for travelers anymore. Orphan Inn is the proper name for it now." Brienne replied as she herself looked longingly at it and most like thought of how warm it was with its solid roof and walls.

Most of the lords argued and gambled with each other on the ride to the Inn earlier in the day for who would get the best rooms and who would have to sleep outside. The look of surprise and then anger on their faces when they were turned away for the sake of orphaned children was something that she greatly enjoyed. The Tarth woman had feared the soldiers would storm the doors with force after being spurned and she would have been right had the King not called for his pavilion to be set up. None of the men had the gall to complain about harsh weather and demand a roof over their head while the King slept outside. Not one of them had the stones to be honest with themselves. "All these young lords and knights want to prove themselves stout." Ser Balon had exclaimed to her at the time with a mighty laugh. "All bloody fools the lot of them. He's having a laugh at them I just know it."

"Aye, the bloody smith won't mend my armor." Claimed a knight with a silver dolphin on his shield during sundown. "Should have beaten his damn head in with his own hammer."

"Bastard claims he won't let his craft be the cause of more war and death. Even offered him the iron and coin for his work." Lord Caswell had tried to appeal to Archmaester Marwyn. "I won't be much use in battle without whole armor." Still from the rumors she gathered the 'smith' would not do any work on armor or weapons despite the payment offered or the threats leveled at him and the innkeepers.

 _Gendry you fool. You're lucky they haven't killed you._ Arya knew it was him, no one else would be so foolish and stupid. Her protector had went to appeal to Gendry at the time and just like so many before her she came back with not to show for her efforts. "What did he say?" She asked Brienne earlier.

"The same he told the others. He doesn't want his crafts to kill more people than they already have. He'll do horseshoes, mend pots and pans, and said he's willing to attempt brooches and rings if we supply the mould." The Tarth explained calmly as she picked at the meager supper of carrots and pigeon put before her.

Breaking from her stupid daydreaming she looked down at her brother and mussed his hair. "And Gendry's trying to protect the orphans the best he can." She exclaimed. It truly was an inn for orphans and he was their protector and he supplied them with the means to feed themselves. "He was my friend once."

"Was? Why isn't he any longer?" Rickon asked her as he chewed on the tough meat and savored every bite.

She didn't know why she bothered telling him. It wasn't like he could understand what she meant, he was too young. "It's not important. He-he just left me to join the Brotherhood."

Thankfully Brienne kept her silence as she knew it was not something she had any business hearing and at least pretended like she was not listening. "Why don't you go see him? Maybe he's sorry." Her younger brother asked with drowsiness heavy laden in his voice.

"No!" Her voice rose higher than she wished and knew it betrayed her emotions which was no good. "No ... he wouldn't recognize me any longer. And I just can't ... I don't want to. He's moved on with his life and as have I." She knew what he would say if he was listening. _The m'lady thinks she's all high and better now. Don't have time to speak with someone of my stature no more._

It was deafening silence around the fire settled then and it was not much longer later that she took Rickon with her and put him to bed. He could be oddly affectionate at times and one of those times was that night as he snuggled close to her. If she asked why he would have claimed it was for warmth, but she knew that deep inside he was still just a little boy who needed his family. She didn't know when it was that Brienne fell asleep but her snoring started sometime near then. Aegon returned a while later after she stole a few winks and she stayed coherent long enough to see his final Kingsguard fall asleep. Against what she would admit the Targaryen's humming and lute playing were quite relaxing and helped lull her to her dreams. It was only in the comfort of her dreams that she could let her guard down and in that she saw visions of a warm summer at Winterfell. Rickon grown with children of his own and Bran whole and happy in her father's chair, but even in her dreams she could never escape her reality for long. _No one._

The morning's dawn provoked a pleasing warmth through the camps, the glare in her face less so. It took a great amount of finesse and patience to remove her brother from her side without disturbing him. As was normal she woke long before many others did and saw only a few men who shambled about drunkenly along with some women sneaking about with fistfuls of coin. It sickened her when she wondered if any of them came from Harrold's tent, or knowing him how many was the better question. Aegon still sat on his wet log and looked all the part of a statue in his nightly vigil, his eyes were closed but she knew he never slept much. Ser Loras had been the first of his Kingsguard to wake and next to him was Ser Balon who still lingered in his bedding awake. "How did your rest find you?" He asked as she climbed out from the shared tent.

Arya combed her tangled locks back and shrugged at the man. "Fine, your Grace." She found her way to a seat across from him as a camp follower ran to the King's side and delivered a message.

King Aegon read the message quickly and shoved it down his boot and gave the brown haired boy twin coppers. "Go tell Lord Breakstone that I will take his word into great consideration. Then go and tell the cooks that my companions and I wish to break our fast." The food arrived quickly after along with the mastiff Marwyn who pestered the King all through the eating about things to sign. It did not take long for the smell of hot bacon and eggs to reach her brother's nose and promptly he woke from his dreams and ate nearly two servings to her one and a half. Both Nymeria and Shaggy were sated with burnt pieces of beef from the night before by an especially brave serving girl of seven years with golden eyes who after ran with Rickon. It was a nagging feeling of regret that threw her belly into nausea when the army marched past the inn. Even as it faded away in the distance she wondered if even at the slightest chance that he saw her, or looked.

The next two days were full of heavy riding and even she struggled to keep the pace without complaints. She was not used to sleeping in the saddle and that meant Rickon was not either, so he took turns with Ser Balon and King Aegon who she was sure would forego rest until reaching Moat Cailin. They finally stopped for camp a great distance away from the ugly twin towers of Frey which her sore body was thankful for. Seven knights of varying rank and status were sent with a black flag to give terms and the seven all returned with no success. "Lord Walder Frey will be proud to house you and all of the accompanying high lords under his roof with a promise and oath of merciful leniency from his grace." Explained one of the seven men with a black duck on his bliaut.

It was everyone who mattered and even more who didn't that gathered around a large fire built of several whole trees. Lords from the Reach, knights from the Vale, skirmishers from the Claw, loosely joined rivermen, even a few Dornish spears and Myrish crossbowmen all debated their stances before the King. "Aye, I bet the weasel will. Nary shat himself when his progeny spotted us on the horizon I'll bet." Roared Ser Boulderfist who led the Clawmen.

The new Lord Blackwood was much more subdued than many others who shouted for justice or Frey blood and he tried to keep a level head. "I lost a brother to the Frey's treachery and will never suffer their lies again. We should give them til the dawn before we strike."

Lady Chelstead was one of the most ardent voices who continued a losing battle in the camps for a peaceful resolution. "And how many innocent children will be lost in that attack? If we are not above child killing then how can we claim ourselves so superior." It was a long known fact that the woman's grandmother was a Frey and even if it wasn't known prior to her words many a men bellowed it.

"I think it would be consummate for the sake of fairness and justice if anyone with a drop of Frey in them shut their bloody mouths." Argued Theo the True; commander of the Warrior's Sons who was nothing but the High Sparrows right arm. His outburst was met with almost undisguisable voices arguing both against and for his point. It seemed obvious to Arya that the Freys deserved nothing less than the end of a sword, even if it came at a great cost.

"Well half of those here would have to pipe down if that was the case." Stated a dour faced son of house Crane. Based on the anger his outburst brought, the man would be lucky not to find a cowpie in his bedding or at worst be found with an opened throat the next day.

Half of the King's actual courtiers and retainers kept mostly quiet with occasional words of advice spewed forth advocating a peaceful solution. The other half sat directly at his side and whispered things unheard by her in his ear. He was if nothing else if not a court king who tried to play both sides. His face never broke in anger, sympathy, rage, joy, or even concern the whole time and his eyes would narrow every time a threat was thrown from one person to another but would not say a word. Garlan the Gallant nearly had the greatest say of the whole army and he spoke of cautiousness in all things while Harrold the Arse wanted to storm the Twins as soon as possible.

Lord Royce wanted the Freys to pay, that seemed obvious to her and he added his own voice to the arguments which did serve to quiet many. "We need to send a strong statement to every man in the Seven Kingdoms. We need to show them just what is waiting for those who break guest rights."

"And the Northmen." Added a pink faced squire from the Stormlands to a mild round of cheers and some few jeers.

The Bronze Lord waited momentarily and continued with a sharp glare towards the squire. "But, those Freys know how to defend what they got and have shown that since building the damn bridge. If we attack we'll run significant losses and we need every sword and bow we have if we mean to take Moat Cailin."

"Or mayhaps you still feel sympathy for them Lord Royce. Was it not your great aunt Perra who was old Walder's first wife? And his aged heir Stevron holds more Royce in him than most here. Would you not benefit from a strong house Frey, favors from distant family and all?" Asked Lord Lolliston who was shaped like an especially lumpy pear. Whatever reasonable points the Bronze Lord made before were rather muddled in hindsight with that piece of information.

"I've never even met the woman and couldn't give a drop of piss in sake of Lord Walder or his sodding heir." Defended Yohn Royce who seemed quite insulted at the insinuation of falsehood on his part.

"So what say we starve them out!" Inquired Edric Baratheon who got a fair bit of support from men far older and more experience in warfare them himself. It was just within recent times that he'd no longer been named 'Storm' and in that time his pride had only grown. He was so lordly and important now that he no longer even squired for the King and he had his own squire now despite not even being a knight. "With all those children of his they cannot feed themselves without support for more than a moon."

"We could send a quarter of the men over the Green Fork, it is true. They could walk right over the ice and we could circle the whole of the Towers before they even knew it." Admitted Ser Garlan Tyrell.

Taking that as a token of support; Edric continued in a far more excited and rapacious voice that bordered on booming. "And when the defenders tire and falter we can strike from both sides and level the whole bridge into the Trident." That frankly ambitious idea garnered the largest amount of support thus far and even Arya lent her voice to the cheer that rang out. It was nothing less than the Freys deserved after all. Leaving the damned bridge in ruin and making them start anew with many less relatives seemed like justice to her.

Bronze Royce was a noticeable absence from the supporting cry and when it died down he brought forward an unfortunate fact of their predicament. "We cannot wait here and starve them out. While we die and freeze out here in the frost they will hunker themselves down in the warmth of their castle. If we mean to make it north in good condition we need that bridge within the week. I want to see them pay for their crimes the same as most, but we are not invincible or invulnerable out here and the Seven won't be enough to keep us healthy." His words drew more than a few sneers and outbursts of anger from the more fervent lords and knights and that was not to mention the seething look upon Ser Theo's mug.

"You've been rather quiet, Lady Stark. You lost your eldest brother to the Frey's treachery, so what say you? Should we wait, or do we prepare for battle?" Asked Lord Jason Mallister with seemingly good intentions behind it.

His question had been one not appreciated and she felt rather tongue tied and timid when all eyes in the camp focused on her. "What does it matter what she says or thinks?" The loud mouthed Ser Ronnel Egen interrupted her. "She is just a girl and has no men at stake in this." Some agreed with him and all of those who did were some she would not forget.

"Let her speak." Replied Harrold with a great thunder behind his voice that served to silence his bannermen in quick succession.

When the eyes returned to her she felt her brother slide behind her back and she stiffened her nerve. _You're a Stark of Winterfell, act like it._ She commanded herself and spoke with all the confidence she could muster. "Its obvious we can't stay here. But should we attack too soon like Lord Arryn suggested, it will cost many men." And she was doubly sure no man would jump at the opportunity to lead their men in the first wave against the Twins should it come to battle. The moat was too deep, the walls too high, and the defenders had too much to lose to even consider wavering. "We have no siege machines and the cover of darkness will only give us enough time to build makeshift rams before they see what we plan. And forgive me if I am mistaken but rams will not help us scale the walls and the forest around us is too wet to build anything else of use." A sobering amount of nods and grunts of agreement flooded through the camps then.

"So what would you advise, _Lady Stark._ " Asked the new Lord Baratheon who said her name in a way that was surely meant to dishonor her.

Arya however would not take any bait from those who hoped to anger her and ignored those who waved her words off simply because she didn't have a cock between her legs. "That a man or two sneak into the Twins and open the gates. With the walls taken away from them the battle should be over before it begins." A loud laughter rang out from many men then and her face burned with embarrassment that was only overshadowed by her anger.

"And how do you suppose we pull that off? You must think them daft and dumb to not expect something like that." Exclaimed Lord Tarly who made no illusions to his distaste towards her possessing a say. "They have men watching both sides of the bridge at all times and won't let in a mouse." The entire assembly broke out into arguments again and several more threats were thrown to and fro that were never acted upon.

She kept her silence for the rest of the proceedings and pondered more then once of simply leaving with Rickon as it seemed nothing would be solved. It was a while later that the King broke his quietude and all were forced to heed his words. "At dawn's first light, we will attack with all our might." Before any could argue his Kingsguard brandished their weapons and cut off any thought of arguing with the Targaryen's desire. "Take all the time left to you to prepare your men, drink your wine, polish your armor, pray to your gods, and bed what you will. I will personally lead the vanguard into the Twins and I will present to each and everyone of you the Late Lord's head." He stood up then and looked all the part of a giant before all with his crown of rubies and valyrian steel. "May the Seven guide your hands and may each of you end a dozen men knowing the Warrior is behind you."

"So be it known." Exclaimed Commander Theo as he grasped at the seven pointed pommel of his sword. "Know that the Warrior's Sons stand behind you, your Grace." And with that said he dropped to a knee and was followed by every man and woman who each swore the same.

The men funneled their way out of the center of the camps soon after and when Rickon complained of exhaustion she led him to their own pavilion which lay next to the King's. It was a sparse and austere thing that possessed only the barest necessities which served the both of them just fine. She had made due with far less and he was just fine sleeping under a roof as he was the stars. They were given separate cots and when her brother broached the subject of how to keep warm she pushed them together as she herself was content sharing with him. Brienne saw fit to join them a time later though there was no third cot or furs and so she sat on the ground. The Tarth took a whetstone to her sword for a time and in between restless periods of sleep Arya watched the woman and when the darkness took her and light came back the woman would change her seating.

"They're sleeping." She heard Brienne argue to someone after a while and never heard a response. "Can it not wait?" She sighed loudly. When the giant of a woman kneeled down at the side of the cot, Arya forced herself to stay conscious and kept her eyes open. "Arya, it's important. You must wake up."

She would have lied if she claimed it was an easy feat and it only got more difficult when she felt the cold of the night against her back where there was once warmth. "What is it?" Her brother asked in a dreamy haze as his eyes looked to her without focus.

"Go back to sleep." The Stark girl murmured and then pulled the furs back up to her brother's chin. "I'll be back soon, I promise." That was satisfactory for him and he shut his eyes to return to his rest. "What is it, Brienne?"

The Maid of Tarth nodded towards the Commander of the Kingsguard Balon Swann who waited patiently at the entrance with a light colored cloak of bear. "His grace needs a word." The man exclaimed and Arya looked to Brienne and then back to the man. "If it wasn't important I would have preferred waiting til morn ... but,"

"I understand." She exclaimed and slipped her feet into her boots and tied the many straps. "Am I going to like what he's going to say?"

He didn't answer and simply waited for her to take the warm cloak from him which she did momentarily. "Where are your wolves?" He asked as Brienne helped tie the fur to her shoulders.

"Hunting ... most like." Arya announced when remembered not feeding Nymeria before retiring to her lodgings. "How long has it been?" She asked and passed by the man to the outside. The moon was out that night, it was bright and dominated half the sky it seemed.

"Five hours to the dawn." Said Ser Loras who stood a hop and skip away in his shiny white armor which reflected the moon's light in a fetching manner. The Tyrell looked to be suffering from the frost from the looks of it, but he was a knight of summer and this was not the climate for one such as him.

She thanked the man as she passed through the flaps to the King's tent. "Your grace." She announced as she look upon the almost otherworldly Targaryen King. "You wanted to see me?"

He looked up from a dusky scroll which reached from his lap to the ground. "Aye," His light violet eyes wavered on her and then dropped back to the scroll before he begun rolling it back up. "did you mean what you said before?"

Arya thought she knew what he was speaking of but knew whatever he hoped to come of this talk was difficult for him to reach. "What did I say before?"

Aegon snickered a bit and stood up from a straight backed chair to throw his scroll into an opened chest. It was one gilded and made of cherry wood that she'd always seen close by him since Braavos. "That you believe it the best course to sneak away into the Twins and open the gates."

"Yes, I did. Is that why you called for me? To confirm what a dozen men could have or do you hope to belittle me and show me how misguided my idea is? If the latter, I'd prefer you spare me, your Grace." For her words she heard Ser Humfrey grunt in stifled amusement from outside.

"Quite the opposite in fact." The King replied as he offered her his seat which she took happily. "How would you go about it? Sneaking into the Twins that is."

It was a thing she thought about frequently, slipping into the castle in the dead of night and slitting the throats of every fucking Frey. To actually do it was something altogether. If she was to have brought it up the army should have stopped a day earlier before the Frey's spotted them to catch their guards laxed and lazy. Now however they would keep their gates tight until the threat was past. "I'm not sure." She finally admitted. "From what I heard they are keeping a close watch and there is no chance of scaling the walls unseen."

"Aye, that was my thinking once when I slipped in under the guise of a begging brother. We set each of the tower spires aflame to cover our escape and used several braids of hemp to climb up and down the bridge." Arya had heard the tale before from her Aunt Roslin who they had taken from her bedchambers in the western tower. She told Arya of how scared she was clinging to Bennard Brune's back while he scurried down the rope. Of how the King and his men carried barrels of oil and bundles of dried feed under their arms to the tops of the towers. It was impressive though seemed a wasted effort seeing as the Twins still stood over the Green Fork. 

"And that way is closed off to us now." The word 'us' had flown from her mouth easily and with little choice she acted as if it was no gaff. "I would use the river." That made the King pause and she could imagine how fast his mind worked to catch onto her point. "If the Green Fork is permitting you could send two men in a boat down the river and under the Twins. With a bit of luck a hook could be thrown to the bridge and climbed. With a man behind the walls he need only be careful and he could have the gates open before they knew it."

Ser Humfrey entered the tent then and seemed to find a fault in her logic. "Impossible. It would take a miracle to find the right crevices in the ice and it would take the Seven's own assistance to not be caught by the watchers."

The King's visage darkened and he muttered some words of high valyrian in frustration. "No, it will take skill and luck." Arya replied as she eyed the light haired Hightower. "And it would take someone who they wouldn't notice. An extra man on the walls would be something to take note of, but an extra serving girl would go unseen."

"You would volunteer yourself." Aegon stated flatly as if he dreaded the idea of her being something useful or helping. "My bannermen would proclaim me mad if they even thought I humored the idea." He could try to pretend all he wished but Arya knew it was what he brought her for. He just didn't have the nerve or courage to ask her directly, like it was somehow beneath him. "If they caught you I don't know what they would do. Killing you would be the most fortunate fate I fear."

"I know that. Which is why I won't be caught." His words of caution were unneeded and only served to unnerve her, she couldn't afford to think failure was an option. "You know that I can do it. I'm not some dumb and useless girl who wishes to sit on her arse and grow fat, I want to avenge my family and if helping you makes that happen I will do whatever I can." They both knew the depths of her skills and even if he liked to pretend otherwise; she had far more uses to him and his Seven Kingdoms than creating alliances and siring some Lord a brood of children.

"Know that if you succeed I will reward you handsomely." He tried to do what came natural to him when someone did him a service and while most would have jumped at what he offered she had no need. After all she possessed a favor from him as it stood and would use it when the time came.

"There's no need." She cut him off before he could attempt to offer whatever he had in mind. "This is for more than your sake." Ser Humfrey Hightower looked to be quite distressed by the turn of events but kept his silence as she continued. "But I will need someone to lead the boat for me, and I will need a good distraction."

The silver haired King smirked in a dangerous way and then pointedly looked towards the Hightower. "You always wanted to prove yourself a better sailor than Aurane. This would be a good place to start, Ser Humfrey." The Hightower was in no position to refuse his King, she knew. Added was the glory at being an instrumental piece in toppling the Twins was surely appealing to the most unproven member of his order. "I'll launch a small attack on the gates, just enough to keep the eyes off the river." Aegon announced with a confidence that he only showed the world when wearing his crown. "I'm trusting you to keep her safe."

"She won't come to any harm while I'm near, though after ... the Gods will only know." Ser Humfrey said before he tilted down the bascinet of his while enameled helm. "We best leave as soon as possible if we hope to avoid notice from any in the camps." She nodded and when she turned to follow the knight from the tent the King grabbed her by the forearm. She looked down at his wolf ravaged arm and watched as he placed four silvers stags in her palm and closed her fingers around them. They would come in handy should she have need to bribe or distract any who stood in her way and was thankful for them.

All the Kingsguard other than Ser Carron were missing from the face of the King's pavilion. It was as both the Hightower and Stark snuck passed her own lodgings that she heard Brienne talking with Ser Balon inside, and the latter was no doubt distracting the former she bet. _He just didn't have the stones to ask me, this was what he wanted from the beginning._ Humfrey placed a rough cloak of cowhide over her furs and tied a heavy bonnet around her head and flipped it over her face as he briskly escorted her north of the camps. On the outskirts of the encampment they met with a half dozen Clawmen who carried a thin and angular dingy made of a dark wood that would take to the night well. As they explained to Ser Humfrey that a varnished or painted boat would catch the moon's light too easily, but she had no fears of failure and could not afford them either. She knew best that even a moment of hesitation could mean certain death.

As the group snuck along the forest line she was sure there were half a dozen predators that hungered for them in those dark woods. There were soon none when she heard Nymeria's loud howl echo through the night sky in a warning. In these woods she was the queen and none dared to challenge her. "The night feels a bad omen, I feel the eyes of squishers all about us." Complained one of the younger Clawmen. "Being so close to the Neck it's more like we'll run into the damn bog-devils." Replied a second man who had a copper colored beard that hung down to his naval.

"Why not a blumpkin you damned cowards? Or an other, think we're going to run afoul them?" Exclaimed Ser Humfrey who Arya could not help but realize shook like a frail leaf in the darkness. "We have no need to fear the dark when their are plenty of real men out there who would kill us."

His words seemed to instil some confidence in the men and until they reached the riverbank there was a deafening silence compounded by the beating of her chest. "I'm 'fraid that shiny armor of yours won't do, Ser. It'll catch the moonlight and surely." Acknowledged a Clawman as they hacked away at a thin layer of ice that blocked the boat's path.

The Hightower was seemingly dismayed by that news but wasted little time in shedding himself of his armor and into a plain doublet with hose and fur trimmings. "Pray to whatever Gods you keep I don't catch an errant shaft or you'll be rowing yourself, Lady Stark." It was long before they finished that the fires of warfare and screams of agony came cutting through the area and it shook Arya to her bones. It brought fleeting memories of the Hound and the Frey's treachery as the Clawmen finished their work and she was happy her companion had a sword and not an axe. The copper haired man then handed her an obscenely heavy hook with four swords jutting from its faces. "Be careful not to drop it." Humfrey dumbly warned her as he situated himself in the cramped dingy and worked his arms over the dual oars.

The floating construct did not feel nearly durable enough to hold both their weights to her, but as they floated down the freezing fork several yards it still held strong which was enough for her. "Good sailor are you?" She asked him as she tied the rope to the cast iron hook.

"Aye, though I wouldn't claim this a test of my abilities. Not even in the same realm really. Sailing the rough seas during winter, now that's a challenge ... this timid little river is nothing to me." He heaved as his arms shook and trembled under the force that was needed to row them through the rough and choppy waters.

"Ford that moat you bloody dogs!" Roared a voice carried by the cold winds that bounced off the Twins. She could only wonder at how far the attack would continue until they pulled out, and she only hoped it would be enough. "Sully your false fucking dragon you traitorous shits!" Screamed a Frey to his attackers as the dingy neared forty yards to the bridge.

It was as they reared under the epicenter of the Twins that Humfrey dropped an iron ball and locked them in place. The Hightower took hold of the hook by the neck and whirled it up and down for speed. The first two tosses came up short and splashed into the fork while the third very nearly split their boat when it came back down. The fourth however was a perfect throw and hooked in an especially narrow crenal tightly. "Quick up the rope you go and be quiet and stay safe. Hate for them to take another Stark." He whispered as she found her footing on the knots made in the triple thick rope. The climb was much harder than she would have liked or admitted but the Hightower didn't seem to notice. "Climb like a little monkey from Sothoryos, don't you? Look at home on that rope as a lookout climbing to his crow's nest." She knew his words were meant to encourage but she had no time to waste on them and kept putting one hand over the over and tried to ignore the stinging pain and the sounds of hell and death all around and above her.

When she reached the top she scurried over the side of the bridge. "Gods, that was harder than I thought." She murmured as she studied the deep and bloody grooves the rope had dug into her palms.  _Bran would have done it in half the time, and with his hands intact._ Arya knew it was nothing worth fretting over and tore the short hem of her riding dress into two long strips which she bandaged her hands with. The hook was held strong by the tug of the river and so she had to saw through the rope with the edge of needle to wedge it free and then tossed it into the dark waters as Ser Humfrey waved her off before floating away. _No one, you are nobody but you can be anyone._ She mentally composed herself and softened her eyes to something she hoped men would find just pleasing enough to look over her as nothing more but ordinary. A serving wench's daughter, that would do well enough. A name of Walda would do just fine, it would be her namesake for a life that had lasted too long and whose crimes had went unpunished.

The gates could wait as it was a debt of blood she sought. It was a simple thing to walk the bridge she found, she passed half a hundred men and women and not a one even questioned her. "Mother, please show us mercy. Warrior please give our sons and husbands strength enough to protect us." Prayed a gray streaked woman in tears whose cries would not be answered by any Gods that night. The doors to the western tower was left unlocked and unattended as all men of an ability to fight were manning the walls. She could not be sure but from the heights of some on the wall it seemed a fair few women and children joined them in defending their home. Arya wished she could feel sympathy for them, but she did not.

It only took a handful of smiles and questions of the remaining castle staff to learn the layout of the tower. "Best say your prayers twice tonight. Our fate is sealed and you'll be fucked bloody when those walls come down." Warned a blubbering man who had finished two flagons of dornish wine and smelled like a tavern floor. "If you want your first time to be pleasant I'll be gentle." The man laughed as she turned from him and continued her walk through the tower which looked half ransacked already.

"Take the next two flights up and his room will be at the end of the hall." Explained a kindly woman when asked of the Lord's chambers who couldn't have been two years Arya's elder. "The Seven have forsaken us, just like grandfather." She added with tears and with a few friendly words Arya sent her on her way.

When Arya came to a steep set of blue stoned steps she spotted an old man who wore the chains of a maester that struggled up them and so she quickly rushed to his side. "Let me help you." She demanded as his arm fell over her shoulders.

The old maester did not question her once and even gave rotten toothed smile which was preceded by his horrible breath. "Thank you my dear." He was not one to turn down her assistance and took all the help she offered and leaned heavily on her as they climbed the steps. "The climb has become almost unbearable these last few weeks." He chuckled. "Old bones aren't what they used to be, and I was only a third of old Lord Walder's age. Don't think I'll last nearly his age, If the end of this night at all."

"It's no trouble." She told him as they rounded a platform and continued climbing. "I've seen an old man fall down stairs and it is no pleasant thing. Where do you mean to hide?" Arya did not know why she bothered asking as nowhere would be safe when she opened the gates.

The grey bearded man weakly laughed again which was then followed by a scratchy cough. "Ahh, sweet child. I don't mean to hide, I just wish to return to my bed. A comfortable end seems fair for the loyalty I've given this house. I think I'll down a skin of the arbor's finest with just enough sweetsleep to help me pass." The old maester patted the skin at his side as he explained himself. "I have more than enough if you'd like to share the fate with me. A good and peaceful death for one so kind as yourself for helping an old man with so little time left to spare on yourself."

It was as they reached the top of the stairs the old man let go of her and waited patiently for her answer. "I won't die tonight or tomorrow, thank you all the same, old man."

She tried to move around the man but he cleared his throat and she gave him a moment more. "I don't know what you intend to do with those weapons on you, girl. I don't really care either, but just be careful. The Kingdoms have shed enough blood and as one whose time is nearly at an end I can only hope it too is nearing a closure." He was only two steps away from the flight of stairs then and his next words would decide just what his 'end' was if he wasn't careful. She could afford no botches and she would not let an act of kindness jeopardise her vengeance. "But who am I to lecture you?" The maester sighed and he looked defeated and broken as he hobbled down a dimly lit hall while using the wall to aid him. "It's all useless." He cackled out.

Lord Walder's door was easily identified by the carvings in the wood which pictured the Twins in their full grandeur. No sounds came from within which meant good things, the lack of guards was something she thanked the diversion for. All her training taught her that the front door was the worst place to make one's move, but she had wasted enough time and waited long enough. The Late Lord Frey's life was hers and as she slipped into the room the Stark girl crept low to the ground to dampen any noise. The massive bed that dominated the chambers was lavish with gold and silver trimming and was no doubt paid for by all the tolls he extracted over the years. It was occupied by only one and that was a horribly ugly and ancient man with a shallow chin that dressed in the whitest of silks. He looked just like she pictured him, only in her dreams he knew that she was coming, knew his life was going to end and begged for mercy. Only now ... something was terribly wrong.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!" She screamed and smacked his cold face across the cheek. "No, no, you wake up!" She said again and two loud smacks echoed off his hard, cold, and ugly face again but not once did he return or acknowledge them. "Damn it, I was supposed to kill you, now let me!" Arya slipped needle from her sleeve once more and put its tip to his throat and lightly pushed. "You, you ... you didn't deserve a peaceful death. You deserved to watch your whole line extinguished knowing it was all your fault, you deserved to taste cold steel after watching every one of your seeds face the headsman or hung from branches." She pulled needle away from him and slipped it back into her sleeve. "But the Gods aren't fair ... good men die and bad men linger on. So it seems it is up to me to right these wrongs ... so burn in lowest level of hell. Your death was not nearly late enough for me ... but your kin will be." With great disgust and contempt she spat at the old withered weasel who would pay for his crimes as winter had come, he just didn't know it.

When she stepped out of the tower she could hear the fighting had died down and the way to the portcullis was all but open for her. Most of the men were wounded or tending to the wounded, so she filled her arms with several rolls of silk and linen prepared to help the wounded if need be to reach her objective. It was soon after that a Frey soldier took them from her and freed her way. A singular guard was seated before the ladder and he possessed far away look in his eyes that told her all she needed to know. He hardly even noticed her before she buried needle in his neck and if she moved quick enough no one else would either. The room was occupied only by two others, one that looked to be of age with Brienne and the other had to be a year younger than herself.

"What are you doing up here?" Asked the younger Frey quizzically.

The Stark's response was a simple one and to the point as her needle pierced his throat effortlessly and left him coughing for air. "Elmar!" Screamed the much bigger and strong man who tried to pull his dagger. Arya pushed the young Frey down and tried to pull her own knife from her boot but was stunned as the bigger man smashed her under the chin and sent her stumbling backwards and nearly out the window. "You dumb bitch!" He roared as his hands tried to wrap around her throat. He almost succeeded before she bit down with all her might on his thumb. Her next strike went sent her foot between his legs and stunned him. She tried to scurry past him to the lever, but his his arm caught her leg and tripped her to the floor. With another great kick this time to the face she was able to roll away and scrambled for her needle which was still in Elmar's throat as the Frey choked for life.

"Just die!" She screamed and then put her foot on the boy's chest and ripped the slender blade from him which splattered blood across her brow. "For Robb!" Arya spun around and attempted to stab the last assailant but her strike went awry when he tried to dodge and her needle pierced through his cheek. He roared like a wounded animal in pain and nearly ripped his cheek off as he drew his dagger and charged her. He was much stronger and bigger than her and like a bull in rage he knocked her to the floor and his dagger's edge kissed the tender flesh of her shoulder which made her cry out in pain. "Get off me!" It was no use as he was too heavy. It was when he drew his blade against the open wound on her shoulder that it truly dawned on her.  _I won't die, not to a Frey._ With all the strength she could muster she then pulled her arm from under his weight and jammed her fingers into his eye socket and squeezed down on the squishy orb.

That seemed to do the trick as the man fell off her and clutched at his left eye or whatever remained of it. "I'll-I'll kill you." He sobbed as his hand reached around the floor and found a hatchet used to chop wood. With a great heave he lifted it over his head and with just as much effort his arms went slack and the weapon fell and stuck into the floor. "What?" Was all he questioned. Arya did not waste his hesitation when he dropped the axe and hopped to her feet and then buried her valyrian dagger under his jaw and in his mouth. He gurgled loudly and violently as she pried the hatchet from the wood and then he was silent after it stuck into the side of his head.

Her eyes had nearly gone black from the pain her head and shoulders felt, but she had a job to do ... a contract to fulfil and nothing would stop her. With a great kick of the wooden lever that blocked the army it swung down and she heard a loud crash as the portcullis was pulled from the stiff ground. "What the fuck is going on up there!" She heard a man scream from under the door which was being held shut by Elmer Frey's still bleeding corpse. "Open up! One of you idiots opened the gates!" With unsteady feet Arya walked to her needle and removed the dirty pieces of flesh skewered on it. "We're all going to die!" The same man pleaded again as she perched herself in a wide window that overlooked the Green Fork in all its frozen glory. "Please!" Was the last word she heard before hundreds of war horns broke the morning sky to announce the coming of the Dragon's forty thousand.

With no time to lose she took a leap of faith and dove head first off the tower and into the frozen waters below. It was through sheer luck that she found a gap in the ice, though the rattling the impact had on her body did not make her feel blessed at all. The water was colder than she could stand and her eyes wavered even worse as the darkness crept into her vision and saw streams of red follow her as she floated down river. _Was this what you felt?_ She asked her mother.  _Or did you feel anything at all?_ Arya hoped not, the pain was excruciating and the water burned her open wounds like fire. "No one." Her voice was hoarse and she hardly could prove she said it. "If I am truly no one, then I know no one. No one knows me, and no one should mourn me." It made her eyes burn as she never wished to feel that for herself; self pity. She didn't want to die; she wanted to live, she wanted to avenge all who wronged her family, she wanted to teach Rickon what was what, she wanted to help Sansa raise her child, and she wanted to live most of all. The moon was pretty tonight however and she was thankful for that, and the way the sky lit up with fire and the way the screams of dying men complimented it was nice too. It almost felt as if the whole Green Fork was boiling and if it boiled her she would not mind as long as it boiled the Freys with her.  _Weasel soup._ She had not the strength to say it, but it amused her all the same.

It was a short rest and painful rest that heralded the hell she woke up in. It was another bout of pain that shot through her shoulder though this time her right arm and not left was affected. Long and sharp daggers bit deep into her and dragged her through the water effortlessly. The pain pulled her to something solid and somewhat soft all the same and with a loud howl Arya reached up for her Nymeria and rubbed the direwolf's soft and supple chin. "There she is." Was a man's voice that called out from the darkness and a faceless shadow descended on her which Nymeria backed away from with Arya's approval. "Little thing nearly got herself killed." The old voice acknowledged as she felt cold and thick fingers probe into her wounded shoulder. "Cut right to the bone, and-" The grunt was cut short as she felt a pair of big hands push against her breasts over and over again. She would have killed whoever did it if she could see his face. For the effort however she violently coughed up water from her lungs and he held her still to coax her through her body's lurching. "There there. Get it all out little wolf. For this victory is yours and you can't even celebrate ... so you might as well live through it."

The next voice was one she knew well and the woman nearly ripped her arm off at the shoulder when trying to hold her hand. "Arya! Can you hear me? Arya!" Brienne was annoying, Arya wanted to tell her that and would when she could. "What's wrong with her?" Brienne asked the squat Archmaester whose chains jingled. It was not a virtue to be stubborn, Arya knew that and someone should tell her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morale is kinda low after writing this chapter, so I may take another long break.
> 
> Next chapter whenever it comes out will be Tyrion and will be politic heavy.


	69. A Road of Gold

Tyrion:

 

It was a fine vintage, a fine vintage indeed, it was only a shame that Lord Payne had but one cask of it and Tyrion had such a great thirst. "Strange and queer taste this one has. Can't say I ever tasted anything quite like this." Bronn acknowledged as he poured his second cup of Pentoshi amber. "Not that I'm complaining. Twenty-five gold pieces for just this tiny cask alone some cunt in the kitchens said." The sellsword then emptied half his cup and laughed after he did.

The 'grand' Payne Hall was nothing to be envied. It was a simple structure of stone, mortar, yellow wood, and some iron to keep it together. All of the family's meager wealth was derived from the trade they oversaw on the Goldroad. It was a reality the family had come to know in the past when war found its way to their doorstep just as it had now. Without the mountains of the Westerlands at their backs to protect them they lived in the flatlands and had no mines of gold to speak of. So it came to pass that after ten days of starving out the defenders and then realizing that no one was coming to save them from the west that the Payne's surrendered peacefully and handed over their weapons which ended the siege with no losses. It was those same circumstances which left the Blackfish, Lord Bronn of Stokeworth and Rosby, Commander Harlys of the Bright Banners, and the right hand of King Aegon drinking the Lord Payne's wine in Lord Payne's chambers with Tyrion sitting in the Lord's chair. He could not lie or deny how good it felt.

The Imp that laid claim to all of the gold and wealth of the Westerlands was how they would know him before the end. He even considered giving over the damned hall to his squire Pod for a time and would have for certain had they needed to storm the walls. "There was an Andalish sour that I drank in Braavos that put this swill to shame." He replied to the men before taking another drink and savoring the delicious and sweet taste. Lord Hendry Payne was a broomstick of a man, with loose and hanging skin draped over a frail body that had never touched a sword or lance. His uncle Kevan had always complained about the greediness of the Paynes and it made him wonder if Lord Payne was so frail because he never bought food to keep whatever shiny pieces of metal he taxed. Regardless of rumors that fact remained that he was not a man that Tyrion would mourn or sympathize with and Pod would find himself a jump in station if he tried even a slight betrayal. Aegon had given him the task of rewarding any who bowed and gave him full authority to do whatever he needed to if it would rein in the Westerlands.

"We'll have to decide which path is next for us soon." The Blackfish brought up from behind his bronze cup. "We could either take the Goldroad all the way to Casterly Rock, or we could skitter around the southern mountains and raid the silver mines."

The foreign mercenary then received a threadbare map from one of his serving boys and unraveled it over the table. To Tyrion, it looked to be half a century old and some of the property lines had shifted considerably in that time. "We're here." The man jabbed his finger at their location and traveled his finger up the Goldroad and stopped at Hornvale. "This would be the first obstacle that would oppose us."

"We could take them easily enough. I saw all they had at the Greenfork." Bronn stated and then pointed at where the Deep Den should have been on the map but was not. "But let's say we form the lines a hundred yards away and show them we aren't fucking around. Then these badgers cunts will be able to ride at us from behind and they'll trap us between the walls and their army."

The 'badger cunts' had employed that same strategy many times in the past and that ruled the Goldroad out for a time in Tyrion's mind. "Which we won't allow." He said and then pointed further passed Hornvale and at the lands that the Sarsfields and Brooms shared. "Right here is where we would run into the most problems. After fighting and climbing the Goldroad passed the brunt of the mountains we would find ourselves in relative flatlands; both exhausted and demoralized. They would swoop upon us from the houses that rule there with their heavy cavalry. After they took their toll of blood they would flee back to their holdfasts."

"Bleed us out before we even spot Casterly Rock. It's a pity now that Robb didn't release the dogs of war like your father did on my home, this could have been over by the turn of the moon otherwise." The Blackfish said with audible regret as he downed his first cup of amber. "It would be a big risk, but we could beat them."

"The Marbrands still hold much of their power, they came out the most unscathed of all my father's bannermen. We cannot count them as a nonfactor if we hope to push up the Goldroad and we will need all the men we can get if we mean to take Casterly Rock." Tyrion knew outside of the Crakehalls it was the Marbrands who held the most sway over the Westerlords.

The Blackfish rubbed at his prickly gray beard and murmured. "Then it's a good thing I killed Lord Damon's heir when he came to track me. Lord Marbrand has no tested men to lead his troops without Ser Addam and his younger brother is still a green boy of ten and eight." It was a great thing that Ser Addam was dead, that was true. Tyrion wouldn't disparage his distant cousin, but he was a dangerous warrior and proven leader of men who would have proven a great thorn in his side.

"The gold mines of the Marbrands are still on the table are they not? I was promised spoils of gold, jewels, and silver from the Westerlands and I can't be made a liar before my men." Said Commander Harlys with noticeable concern heavy in his voice at the fear of losing easy payments for his men.

"Don't worry," Bronn replied to the man to assuage his concerns. "if we don't march on the Marbrands that means we're going south and under the mountains which will leave the silver mines of the Serrett's." It pleased Tyrion a fair amount that his late night drunken musings were actually listened to by the former sellsword, sometimes it was hard to tell.

"What do you think of all this ... sacking and plans of pillaging? You will be the one who has to command and lead these lands, so what say you, Lord Hand?" The Blackfish asked him.

He had no plans of letting the Westerlords get by without payment be it by way of coin or blood. There was no reason to attempt an amiable facade or try to win them over with good words and kindness. They would love him as they never had and he was satisfied with that. His father's lessons were not wasted on him and if he could not rule them through love he would rule them through fear. In their eyes, he would always be the Imp or Halfman who murdered his father and betrayed his kin for greed and spite so why should he show them any more mercy than what they expected from him?

The Targaryen words of Blood and Fire would soon be his own if they did not see common sense and get over their woeful pride. It would need to be a house of renown and power that he would make the biggest example out of. The stout and hardy Crakehalls, the ever fruitful Swyfts who kept the lands fed, or even the mighty and proud Marbrands would suffice to make his own legacy and reputation. He had suffered their japes and laughter all his life and now the Westerlands and Casterly Rock were his by all the laws of men, gods, and the strength of arm and he would not suffer their slights any longer.

"I say we take all we can from those who stand against us. Better be their gold and silver in our hands than theirs. As Hand I cannot ignore the ever-looming debt the Kingdoms have accrued with past Kings and the wealth hidden away will be a good step in the right direction." Tyrion knew the goodwill on his part would be unexpected. It was partly in that vein he made the gesture, but a Lannister always pays his debts and a life debt was owed the Dragon that would require much to repay and a large sum of gold and good wife seemed fair. The Kingdoms would soon know that this Lion had his claws and a roar as grand and fearsome as his father.

The night ended all too soon for Tyrion and when the morning came he broke his fast over a meal of crispy brown bread, bacon cooked in molasses, and several tart fruits from Essos. It was halfway through his relatively pleasant morning when a courier and a half dozen of his men-at-arms broke the talks of marriage prospects there were for Pod. "M'lord, word from Casterly Rock."

"Ah, something fun I hope. I woke a tad sluggishly this morn and could use some excitement to get the day started." He japed as he wiped his greasy hands off on the table's cloth.

With a quick slash of the knife, Pod cut the wax lion house Lannister that bound the letter and read its contents promptly. "From this day forth ... the Westerlords no longer recognize the dominion of the false King Aegon Targaryen over them. In this state of ... strife and tragedy the heir to Casterly Rock is hereby recognized as Martyn Lannister. So let it be known that from this day forth he be recognized as not Lord, but as King of the Rock and River and hereby formally declares his independence and freedom of the yoke thou known as the Iron Throne." The Payne squire paused for a moment and studied the words carefully before he asked with a shaky voice. "What does this mean?"

Tyrion chewed down a piece of crunchy bacon and let loose a small laugh. "It means someone will lose their head. And it tells me that the delusions of grandeur in these lands have been left unchecked for too long." With another louder chuckle he added. "King of Rock and River ... having Edmure Tully in chains doesn't make one bit of difference to us. I hope for Martyn's sake that the men or woman who orchestrated this know we won't be bargained with or take pause for concern of his safety." Even if the Blackfish hoped to see his nephew alive and well it did not matter and if his life was forfeit it would not hinder them. At best it would serve as a distraction as his wife Roslin had given birth to a happy and healthy babe at Riverrun with all the features of Tully. If they even thought of murdering Edmure it would only serve to infuriate the attackers and it would sign the defenders grisly ends as all chances of survival would be ended. 

The doors to the room swung open again and Lord Bronn strutted in looking all the joy of the morning. "Did you hear the news? Seems we have another King to topple." The sellsword darkly laughed and it was something to find amusement in, just not the reality of what poor Martyn faced for the ambitions of those around him.

He could not have been more than ten and two and Tyrion refused to believe his mother was the mastermind behind it. His aunt Dorna was not anything notable in any fashion, but she loved her children and she had to know it would be his head. It was a true pity, his cousin faced only two paths now, one ended at a headman's block and the other was a lifetime of celibacy served on the Wall in black. Martyn was nothing but a figurehead and in all likelihood he had no real power, he was no Robb Stark or even Joffrey, they just put a crown of gold on his head and told him the world was his to rule ... in time of course. One thing he would be sure of is to end the life of whoever was behind this new Kingdom, it was because of them he would lose another cousin and this one wholly innocent. If the battles ended quickly with minimal blood loss Martyn would see himself through it all alive, though if the fighting turned sour the boy would have to die it was cruel and unfair. 

It was not five days later as Tyrion and Harlys watched and enjoyed the youngest son of Hendry Payne juggle axes in incredible feat of talent that an envoy from the southwest arrived bearing the peacock of house Serrett. Lord Serrett's heir; Ser Lorren led the convoy and from all rumors head he was a fair and honorable man which made the show of strength that was needed even harder. With a call for leniency and pardon for the King of the Rock dilemma the Serrett Heir gave over a dozen barrels of unsmelted silver ore along with four chests of uncut rubies, sapphires, garnets, and other gems. Tyrion did hunger however to see the look on Ser Lorren's face when he was relayed the message that he would not receive have an audience with him. If the boy had been half as clever as he was brave he would not have handed over whole of the wealth before receiving the salt and bread of guest rights.

He handed over everything he had for pardon before being allowed into the castle and Tyrion could hear Ser Lorren's wrothful cries as he was jailed and had to admit the man sounded nothing like a distressed bird. The Serrett men were given the missive explaining that only half of what was expected was given and when they receive the rest of the payment their pardon would be given and not a moment earlier. In that meantime, Ser Lorren would be their honored guest and would occupy a high tower near the eastern wall with guards to 'protect' him day and night.

"Tell them if they have not the silver to spare, they can melt their bloody hall down," Harlys exclaimed with a loud chuckle to anyone who would listen as he picked through one of the chests filled with gemstones. "until they give us what they owe us ... I see them as our enemies." The man added as he found a large sapphire the size of his eye and pocketed it as his payment.

Lord Payne had the most complaints which was expected, Tyrion still could have gone without half of his screeches and cries. "This no better than common banditry, it is dishonorable these acts and I will not stand to see my home an accomplice to these acts." Even after he said his peace and made his 'grand stand', Lord Hendry did just what he said he would not. He sat in the corner like a fettered sow when no one stood with him. 

Tyrion though was unfazed and knew that Lord Serrett would send the ransom, he was a family orientated man and would pay whatever the cost was for his beloved son. If it had not been for the japes and gossip he took part in at Tyrion's expense he may have felt bad for his actions, but alas he did not and if the man would not pay then he would lose a son and his heir, and if still he did not pay then his lands would follow.

The very next day another envoy arrived; this one from the Golden Tooth in the form of a single rider on a coal black steed. Acting on the wishes of Lady Alysanne Lefford, her uncle Ser Duncan Lefford asked for the terms that they offered at the gates. Tyrion with all of the men on his war council and most fearsome looking soldiers met with the Lefford in the main hall of the castle. He would have lied if he claimed it did not give him great joy to sit in the Lord's high seat while the true Lord of the castle stood and watched while grinding his teeth. The servants gave the respectable man both bread and salt and after he asked them for the terms of a peaceful and blood free surrender.

The new Lady Lefford was a woman three years his junior and yet she was in over her head in the current situation the realm was in. That was obvious and for that sole reason alone he would not bleed them as he had the Serretts. "If the army of house Lefford is joined to ours and we receive two hostages of close relation along with one thousand gold dragons for good faith. Then and only then will the Crown accept and welcome the lands of the Golden Tooth back into the Kingdoms with open arms. If your niece holds true and honest to her oaths to me and our good King Aegon we will return both the gold and hostages within four years time." He told the man who seemed pleased with the proceedings and what was offered. Ser Duncan was given a fresh horse from the stables and in return gave promise to return with the army of house Lefford behind him as friends once more to the Targaryens and the true Lord of the Westerlands.

Later that night as he lay naked in his bed did he shamefully think of Shae and her sweet kisses and for a time forgot about what she really was. It was even worse when he pictured Sansa naked atop him, as she was a married woman and the way he thought of her at night never ceased to anger him. She was not his and was never meant for him, she was his wife no longer and furthermore, she was the most beautiful flower of the North and the fairest in the south as well if he was to be honest. And what was he but was a kinslaying monster? An ugly and demented freak who sought to steal all that never was his and was denied to him. Tysha was one he could not force himself to think of ... she was above him and he would not think of her, he had no right. His hands then crept along the delicate lines of the soft furs that lay around his waist and thought twice of pleasuring himself if it gave him some comfort and got Sansa out of his head for a time.

"M'lord!" Screamed a voice he recognized as belonging to Pod through the door and with only the quickness and speed a lion could boast he pulled the furs to his neck and covered himself. "M'lord, Tyrion, a runner has arrived from the south."

"Hold on a moment, Pod." He replied and then flung himself from bed and scrambled into a set of black trousers and gold double-breasted silken night shirt. "What is it?" He demanded after throwing the door to his bedchambers open and spotting several of his soldiers and retainers all armored. "Come in."

His squire quickly entered the room and Tyrion shut the door behind him. "It's terrible, a runner from Highgarden just brought news." The distant Payne explained as he slammed a letter down on the table and moved from his Lord's way. "An army bearing the cock of house Swyft has attacked and burned several villages near Old Oak along the Ocean Road." The black haired squire explained as Tyrion read the news for himself though that was only the lesser item of importance in the letter.

With a great sigh and pinch at his brow, Tyrion crushed the parchment in his fist. "Any news from Lord Willas too? I'm sure he will send someone along to curry our support and men." It took him a moment to find a suitable doublet and after lacing it closed he threw on his warmest cloak of bear and motioned for his squire follow after him. "Go and find Bronn and tell him to prepare his troops and then find Ser Blackfish and tell him to ready his outriders as we leave tonight." The Swyfts would need to be dealt with short order and if it was their desire to lure them out and away from King's Landing towards the southern route then they had succeeded. They just did not know how foolish that choice was yet or the poor timing of it. "It seems we will have the Tyrell support on our side, after all, men." His loyal guardsmen grunted their approval and followed after him as they descended down a flight of stairs.

It gave him a painful shiver that ran down his spine when he again unfolded the letter and read its final line again. _Dornish knights have sacked the Three Towers. Oldtown has fallen to the Ironborn. We need help, please send all the support you can, Lord Tyrion. Written by the hand of the Seneschal of Highgarden; Lord Garth Tyrell on the desires and suggestion of Lady Olenna Tyrell née Redwyne._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guessing you guys didn't like last chapter too much? Hope you liked this one better.
> 
> Next chapter is Jon at Moat Cailin.


	70. Moat Cailin

Jon:

 

They hardly looked like how he remembered them, now sunken and red, bloodshot and swollen, so very dark and angry. _Your eyes always made you look so dangerous, but it was your heart that put it all to rest._ Val once told him in the comfort of each other’s embrace. The gray eyes that looked back at him cast and reflected from a basin of water looked like nothing other than death to him. It was fitting as it was how he felt and should have stayed. This world felt foreign and confusing to him, he did not feel himself in this beaten body and the world around him did not treat him as they had before. King Stannis was dead and his corpse burned and ashes gathered, but if the Red Priestess was right with her preaching and sermons his immortal spirit lived inside of Jon now. That didn’t feel true to him, he felt like himself … he felt like a Stark of the North and not a Stag of Storm’s End, or Dragon for that matter. Queen Selyse had gratefully sacrificed herself to the fires of her God in an act to resurrect her husband and was not missed much it seemed. Princess ... or Queen Shireen was now parentless and solemn with only her tattooed fool Patchface and the broken Onion Knight for company. The remaining King and Queen's men who did not flee from Winterfell after Stannis’ death followed Melisandre's lead which meant they followed him for what little they truly mattered when it came to down to bodies.

Lord Umber and Lord Manderly all were willing to follow him to either ends of the world if he ordered it, though it was his choice it would have been the Wall. The She-bear had finished grieving for her mother before Jon rose and was still willing to do her duty to the Starks of Winterfell. Black Donnel survived his wounds with half a face and half more a temper to replace it, he wanted battle and he wanted it with whoever Jon pointed him at. It was only because of the Flint that the northerners did not ride out and slay the Freefolk after he was stabbed and for that Jon was thankful. Most of the northern men looked at him with equal parts fear and reverence, but all called him King as Robb’s heir … it was a title he spurned and rejected while he had trueborn siblings remaining.

The Freefolk had taken his lead just as they had before and cared little for the titles and honors other men threw at him. They would stick by his side as they had before and grieved for his loss far more than the others could understand. If he kept his promise to protect and give them shelter from the Others they would fight where he needed them to. Sigorn Thenn sent a letter written by his wife Alys’ hand that he would join to them at Moat Cailin which bolstered their numbers a pittance in truth. Wun Wun meant to do the same as the others and said so in his old tongue and gathered a large woven basket on his back and filled it with many roots and leafy greens for the journey south.

His former brothers in black needed to wait, somehow he needed the Night's Watch to hold the Wall until he brought them a real army. Before they left Winterfell a dozen ravens flew to them and dealt a great blow that announced the death of Lord Commander Denys Mallister who was found swinging from the rafters of his chambers. _Shame he wasted all that good rope. He could have just thrown himself off the Wall._ _Though that would have bolstered their numbers wouldn't it?_ Dolorous Edd wrote in his letter. _It was me who found him, and of course they tasked me with getting him down._ It was there Jon stopped and tossed the letter in the pyre as read and heard all he needed to, any more and he would have rode north himself.

The march to Moat Cailin had been easier though much slower than it had been with Ghost. There were no hunters to be wary of and his meals were provided for him which was something to be thankful for and he would never forget how it felt to be hunted like that. He remembered vividly the sensation at night while he slept and always when he fed his companion off his own plate who kept him alive inside him. Lord Howland had left a quarter of his people to garrison the ruined castle for their arrival, but it still showed the recent scars of battle that the Ironborn had suffered in it. He took the top level of the Gatehouse Tower for himself when they arrived and under him were housed various northerner lords including the Princess, She-bear and Greyjoys. The Greatjon, his uncles and other kin took the Drunkard's Tower just as they had when they marched with Robb he was told. It was later the very same day they arrived that Sigorn Thenn arrived with his many people to answer the call for support in holding Moat Cailin.

"Are you scared?" Black Donnel asked him one early morn as they stood atop the Children's Tower. It provided the best view of the marshes and let them see the farthest south. No army was in sight yet, but he knew before long that the entire soft field would be covered with thousands of men and knights in plate armor.

Jon thought that it foolish question. It was the Winter and Other's that haunted his dreams and filled him with dread when he woke. The army they faced was one comprised of men and horses, all of them alive. The Winter was filled with monsters pulled from bedtime stories with no fear in their hearts who never tired or faltered. "No."

The mountain Flint blinked the one eye he had left and swallowed down a heavy knot in his throat which he tried to ignore. "Aye, I'm not either." A cold wind blew at their backs and Jon watched the crannogmen down below as they dipped their arrows and spears into murky green substances that their children and women had spent mixing on the journey down the Kingsroad. "I heard there will be sixty thousand of them. Can't imagine seeing sixty thousand corpses down there, but that's what they’ll be."

"They will break before it comes to that." He reassured the Flint as the scents of someone’s warm meal snuck into his nose. It was not since he woke from the dead in the Winterfell crypts that he spoke one word to the Reed. The Crannogman’s words were some Jon needed to force out of his mind every time they crept in at moments of weakness. It was impossible and had to be some trick or ruse, it had to be. _Why?_ The question echoed in his head and boomed like a drum over and over and over. _Why would he lie?_ He hated that it wondered him so.

He later met with nearly a dozen Lords and one Lady over a breakfast of sweet red sausages, cakes stuffed with blackberry jam, and soft-boiled eggs in his solar. Circled around the round table they sat and were fed by the larders of grossly round Lord Manderly who was amiable enough and friendly.

"Gonna bleed em out on their journey up the causeway, are you Howland?" The Greatjon asked the much smaller man over the table covered in varied maps of the immediate area drawn up by the crannog scouts.

"No." Jon was curt and stern with them. The realm of men needed them, The Wall needed them, and they needed every man they could. And it they needed them all they needed the man who commanded and kept them together which was this Dragon King. "We need to let them deliver terms to us without harassment."

Lord Reed seemed the most understanding of the Northern Lords. "He's right. Should me and mine launch attacks on them while they walk the causeway we take all talks of a peaceful resolution from the table."

"So we let them walk up to our damn gates and knock on them? They have nearly triple ours and experienced commanders leading them to boot!" The Greatjon argued with a slam of his fist on the wobbly table. Another one of those Jon felt would splinter the damned old thing. "His men may be unbloodied but those leading them aren't. Bronze Royce has led men into the fiercest of battles and come out on top of most. Randyll Tarly suffered King Robert his only defeat in the rebellion. Let’s not forget they have Harrion Karstark in custody and who knows what secrets he may have known and told them."

The She-bear rose from her seat and took to Jon's side which she commonly did as his staunchest ally. "Armies have made it to the gates of Moat Cailin before and they have been repelled. If King Jon says we let them deliver terms we’ll let them deliver their terms."

"This King is not Joffrey, Lady Mormont." The Greatjon warned. "He's a tricky little man unhindered by southron chivalry and honor who's willing to take unsavory paths to his victories. We should be highly wary of whatever actions we take that concern him." It had traveled quickly by way of a crannogmen scout that the Twins were raised and sacked by this Lone Dragon's men. Over a hundred hostages taken and many more were hung from the bridge that day as a makeshift court was held. That was what the skinny and unremarkable scout had reported seeing as he swam under the ice with a leather tube in his teeth.

“His skill or ability to command is irrelevant against Moat Cailin, my Lords.” Lord Reed murmured and looked at each and everyone with sharp green eyes. “Even with a dragon and an army double the size this castle would withstand whatever storm brought to it. Even the children and all their magics could not break it.”

"Whatever our actions, Lord Umber is correct." Lord Manderly announced behind a steaming hot leg of lamb. "He already has beaten one fortification that was supposed to be unbreakable. If it comes to blows it may be prudent to slit their King’s throat while he sleeps in his camp, as honorable as it may sound. Without him his army will have no reason to keep pushing towards us and will return to their homes or die in the Neck."

"There won't be a battle if I can help it." Jon announced plainly to hush their talks of strategy and warfare to cease any arguments. "You all read the pleas from the Night's Watch. They need help and much more than we can hope to give them."

"You don't mean to bow to these southerners, do you?" Asked Donnel Flint who had more in common with the Freefolk than he would have liked to know and as if the very notion was something worse than kinslaying.

"I mean to protect the North, and we need the Wall. Should it fall nothing will stop the Others from destroying everything and everyone." He knew many of his Lords would have claimed him mad for believing such stories, but amongst these he had the greatest chance of making them see the truth.

Lord Manderly seemed the least convinced which Jon expected, but the man swore he would follow and help the Night's Watch if it was his command. The Greatjon was all willing to believe what Jon told him as his lands lay the closest to the Night’s Watch and he relished a chance to fight something more than men. Black Donnel and the She-bear likewise followed him and believed in him. Sigorn had seen the cold for himself and lost many friends and brothers to them twice, one fighting beside them and the second against them. Lord Reed knew all too well what was coming as his son and daughter were somewhere out beyond the Wall with Bran trying to stop them.

Three days was all they had to wait and prepare. The whole of the ruined castle felt the ground shake and tremble long before the southron army came into sight over the horizon. If not for Lord Reed’s continued assertion of the Drunkard Tower’s strength and stability he would feared its collapse.

Jon met with the Flint heir as he exited the leaned tower and Sigorn as he climbed the steps up the walls. All three watched with muted amazement as the thousand banners of the south rose in the afternoon. A three headed dragon at its fore, a blue falcon in mid-flight, a black stag on a field of gold reared on its hind legs, bear claws clutching an axe, dual roses of gold surrounding a moated keep, and even a lone direwolf was flown as high as the others.

"Look at them all." Sigorn gaped upon seeing his first real army south of the Wall. "Is this what we have to fight?" The Magnar was shaken from the sight and clutched at his bronze helmet tightly. It was a sight Jon himself had never dreamed of, it was a true army that marched towards him now. It was an army that his father once led and marched in that was opposed to him. This one not made up of misfits and criminals like the Night's Watch, or full of children, or the old and weak like Mance's army was. This was a real army with thousands of knights on horses and comprised of willing and able bodied men ready for a fight. Forgetting and ignoring the crannogman's words he shuddered to think of how much worse it would appear had it a fire breathing monster over it.

It was the southerners who were the first to wave the black flag of parlay and request a meeting on equal ground with seven men each. He agreed to their terms and fifty yards away from the gates was the chosen ground he waited at with Lord Umber, Black Donnel and Alysane Mormont, Sigorn Thenn, Howland, and reluctantly Melisandre the Red Priestess who insisted that he would have need of her. It was only to appease the remaining Stormlanders that he took her with him.

"I don't like being out here. They should have been waiting on us, not the other way around." Jon Umber grunted as he kept his hardy northern steed under the reins and still.

"They come." Melisandre announced. It was soon after that her 'prediction' came true as the mighty porcupine of spears that formed the head of the southern army parted and seven riders rode out to meet them.

The head rider was armored in a shiny plate of reflecting silver and wore a helm decorated with long blue plumes that hung down his back who introduced himself as Lord Harrold Arryn of Mountain and Vale. Jon knew it was Sansa’s husband and remembered his name from her letter and wondered what sort of man would wear full plate with a closed helm to a parlay. Behind Lord Harrold were two men who rode beside each other. They were both an older sort and each men wore no helm. The older man wore bronze armor and had slate gray eyes and sparse hair on his head and emblazoned on his shield were the runes of house Royce. The man beside him possessed a great sword which poked over his right shoulder and introduced himself as Lord Tarly of Horn Hill. He was a cruel man Jon remembered from the stories Sam told him and would not mind being the one to fight him should it come to battle.

"Peace be with each of you." Greeted Lord Royce as he planted his bronze colored banner in the dirt.

"And to you." Jon replied with all the kindness he could muster. The Bronze Lord though was not the man who took the brunt of his attention. It was a man on an ashen horse with cold silver hair who wore a crown of rubies embedded in steel that looked akin to Longclaw that he watched closely. His armor was a shade near a moonless night that would have been envied by every man in Castle Black and on his hip was a purple tinted pommel that led down to a short blade known to Jon as Dark Sister; a warrior’s sword in the history of the Targaryens.

Next to the silver haired King was a brown haired man whose long beard hung to his chest and wore dual roses on his surcoat and had the look of a strong and capable fighter. On the Targaryen’s left side was an old man with all the chains of a maester who looked to Jon with something he recognized as disgust and contempt. "Keeping strong are yee', Yohn?" Asked Jon Umber with a bit of mirth.

“Strong enough, Umber.” Exclaimed the Bronze Lord with the first smile Jon had seen from the southerners.

"You're Jon Snow?" Asked the Targaryen King with a dark smirk and eyes that made him feel uncomfortable and provoked a great struggle inside of Jon to meet his gaze.

"Jon Stark." Corrected the She-bear with finality and steel behind her tongue. "By decree of both King Stannis and King Robb he is trueborn and no Snow."

Aegon Targaryen's face never wavered once though his companions all looked bemused and his violet eyes peered into Jon's own gray. "Both of them are deceased, and I heard you were too. Your siblings will be overjoyed to hear of your survival."

"He is our Lord's Chosen, he who woke from death to lead us against the darkness. Jon Stark is Azor Ahai and R'hllor's chosen champion." Melisandre extolled fervently and with a warmth about her that somehow soothed him against the Targaryen’s coldness.

A knight urged his horse closer to them which nearly made Jon reach for Longclaw. On the man's chest was emblazoned a sword of rainbows and on his hip was a mace with a seven pointed star pommel. "Heretic! Not only have you turned from the light of the Seven, but have conspired with this hellish worshiper of fire." The man then spun his horse to the King Aegon and begged him. "Give them no terms but death or conversion, my King. The Kingdom's can no longer suffer their kind and should be looked at with nothing but distrust."

King Aegon's eyes burrowed into Jon's still and not once did he acknowledge the zealous man. "I think introductions are in due order. I am Aegon Targaryen, born of Rhaegar Targaryen," His voice held a musical quality to it and the name struck a pang in Jon’s heart and memories of Lyanna’s stone face appeared before him. "and Elia Martell. I am the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men." His hand motioned to the zealot man who puffed up red like a strawberry. “This … religious and virtuous man is Commander Theoden Wells born of the North and leader of the Warrior’s Sons.” This Targaryen King was a dangerous man, it was obvious the longer Jon looked at him. "So I ask you ... Lord Jon. Will you let my men and I pass and allow me to bring my Stark to Winterfell?" The King asked plainly.

"You have Rickon with you?" Jon asked it far too urgently and he cursed himself for giving away his desires so easily. It was a mistake he was better than and it was one he knew these men would not fail to notice.

"Aye, we have him. He is with us along with his great direwolf.” The Grandmaester Marwyn replied with a loud scowl.

“What is the beast’s name if that is true?” Questioned Black Donnel Flint who had no idea what Rickon had named his direwolf.

“He calls it Shaggydog, or Shaggy for shorthand." The squat and strong looking maester replied with a deep scowl towards Jon’s friend.

Jon swallowed down the hard lump in his gut and tightened his grip on the reins of his warhorse before nodding to Donnel. "Starks are and will always be welcome in the North. So will you, your Grace, if you only recognize that the North has no King."

All of the King's retinue let out varying amounts of laughter and snickers, all but Lord Tarly whose continued silence was deafening as his upper lip pursed up in anger. Sam’s father looked and acted just as Jon expected he would from the stories. "Brazen bastard, aren't you? Is this what your father raised out of you? A disrespectful boy who doesn't show due respect to his King? I would have thought Eddard Stark better." Ser Theoden's obvious attempts at angering him would not work. He would not look the immature child in these negotiations.

“You will not say Lord Stark’s name so freely and disrespectfully.” Stated Howland with a cold fury. “He was a better man than you and I will not stand to hear him insulted while I yet breath.”

“I was not insulting Lord Stark, I was calling out how he raised this little pup. Truth be told you being here at all is an insult to all of us. Did you not swear your oaths to the Night's Watch? I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children, and wear no crowns. You’ve done all but the third and I fully expected to see your brother’s crown on your head.”

The King's eyes finally wavered from Jon and shifted over at the crannogman. "You must be Lord Howland Reed of the Neck." The tiny man in question nodded shallowly. "I must thank you for not hounding my army as we walked the causeway then. I stayed awake many a nights wondering if every sound in the bogs was you and your people come to sap us and our spirit. Even without your efforts though the journey was a most miserable one I will say. We lost three hundreds horses to your swamps and half their riders went missing too."

"The swamps are not mine even if other men claim them to be. The Neck has no master and I do not seek to make it mine, your Grace. And a man should not have to thank another for not being assailed without provocation." Lord Reed exclaimed. "There has been too much bloodshed in these past years and I would prefer to spill as little of it as possible and keep the younger of my people’s hands clean."

"All the more reason you should surrender." Urged the squat and set maester. "You all may find it a dirty word, but it is for your sake too. Stannis Baratheon is dead and in his place is his daughter; a little girl who will lead no armies and win no hearts or a crown." With a blink the King looked back at him and Jon felt like prey under his eyes. "King Aegon is a most forgiving man and you should not waste his time with this mummer's show of force."

 "You know your sister Arya will be happy to see you." King Aegon Targaryen murmured under his breath and they hit Jon like a punch to the belly. "She's here you know, in my camp. She was determined to kill every man who had a part in your betrayal with that slender blade of hers." He urged his horse closer and Jon had to wave off Black Donnel who reached for his axe in defence. The Targaryen ceased his horse before Jon’s and the two horses nipped at each other they were so close. "Arya told me you were honorable and good man in every way." It felt too good to be true, both Rickon and Arya were barely two hundred yards away and only sixty thousand stood in his way. "Just drop from your horse ... take a knee before me ... swear your loyalty ... and you will see your siblings again and I will give you a keep to live in with your wildling wife." His words were like fire and made him feel like a moth he was was drawn to them.

It was what he wanted, it was what he dreamed of, but it was something he could no longer have in this life. Val was gone and so was his child, and he had no desire to take another wife and no castle even one as grand as Winterfell would change that. "Is that all you would ask of me? My loyalty and sword?"

The King pulled his pale horse away and Ser Garlan Tyrell spoke up. "We know you have both Asha Greyjoy and Theon Greyjoy in your custody. We desire them and if you give them to us you will all have blanket pardons for any and all past treasons and transgressions."

"What do you want with them?" Jon asked and then thought of Asha who was rendered nearly incapable from her pregnancy and had suffered and recovered from several fevers. She was a fighter though and she seemed determined not to die from anything less than a battle and on the end of a foe's weapon. _Dying on the birthing bed is not a fate for me._ She had screamed and laughed at the top of her lungs. Jon wished he could believe her and think it was truly beneath her, but his mother most likely thought the same.

"Their uncle Euron has proven quite troublesome for us." The Tyrell commander explained. "He and his ilk are currently raiding the west coasts of my homeland just as they did yours in recent times." And many in the North still called for their heads for those same crimes and it was only the of Alysane and her morningstar that stayed their hands.

"You cannot be considering this!" Said the She-bear in a great roar. "Not in Asha's condition can we even think of ransoming her to these men." The Mormonts had taken considerable care of the Greyjoys in recent times and it was her who made sure the woman made it through every illness still living and breathing. "She's no more than a moon away from giving birth."

Like a scavenger drawn to a battlefield the Dragon's violet eyes narrowed and he pounced on the new information Alysane carelessly surrendered. "She's pregnant? ... I'll give you twelve Freys for both Theon and the babe if it lives. You can keep Asha, Lady Mormont."

"Jon, you cannot think of humoring this trade. I know you care for your family and I would gladly give my life for any named Stark, but there are other ways." Alysane's arguments were grossly unneeded or wanted.

They were so as he had no delusions of a trade like that of any kind. "I won't feed any babe be it a kraken or not to the maws of the unknown.” Jon turned to the stout woman and tried to make her understand. “You swore to obey me once. Do you still trust me?" He asked the burly Mormont who took great pause and looked at him with hesitation before nodding. "Do you swear not to hurt either of them?" He asked the silver haired King who paced his horse back and forth before each and every one them.

"No." The Targaryen exclaimed as simply as if asked if he could breath in water.

 _Tell him to fuck off. He can go bugger himself with a spear._ He heard Val advise him and he nearly broke a smile at the thought of saying it to the man. This however was a situation he felt he was more like to lose either way. "The babe then." It was his last hope and it was all he could not bend on. He only hoped they would treat Theon kindly and if they took his life it was with a quick and simple beheading.

The King dropped off his horse and landed in a deep pile of horse shit and mud before giving a single nod of his head. "In the light of the Seven and on my crown and kingship I swear ... that no harm will come from my hand or word towards the progeny of Lady Asha Greyjoy and … and whoever sired her child on her." It was enough for Jon and so he too dropped from his horse and stood toe to toe with the first son of Rhaegar Targaryen. "Do we now have terms?"

"We do." Jon replied and thrust his hand out towards the silver haired man. "If you would offer your support and uphold your oath to ride to the defence of the Night's Watch." The Targaryen stared at his hand and the gesture as if it was something dirty or an insult. "But I will not bow."

"You arrogant-" The old maester tried to say but was cut off by the Silver King's hand which shot up like a bolt and served to silence him.

"Your brother Rickon is Lord of Winterfell ..." The Silver King said pointedly.

"He is." The castle was Rickon or Bran's if the latter still lived and no word or proclamation from any King would tell him differently.

"Then let us march together as friends. I feel we have much to discuss in these coming days." Jon could not agree anymore and even if they were brothers he felt it was naught but blood that made it so. This man was dangerous sort and Jon only hoped he would be enough with all his southern knights. He only hoped. Today however, was a different time, and he needed to see Arya. It had been far too long since he had seen the skinny little girl with scabs who wanted to be a knight with her needle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really was nervous writing this chapter. 
> 
> I had an interesting pm on fanfiction.net and the person wondered what Marwyn and Aegon had for a relationship and what I used to inspire it. If any of you wondered the same thing I drew it from my favorite teacher mentor relationship which was Aristotle and Alexander the Great.
> 
> I know a lot of you wanted to see Jon and Arya reunite but I really am not good at writing reunions and will show it through Aegon's point of view.
> 
> Judging from feedback it seems I really dropped the ball with this chapter and if you feel that way I am truly sorry. I don't think I got over the reality that both Jon and Aegon have need of each other and both are still rather inexperienced among the other men around them. The point I was trying to get over by having both Alysane and Theo Wells argue was that things are not easy for both men. I think I overestimated the burn that Jon telling Aegon he won't bow to him in front of his bannermen was. I wanted to show that neither wanted war but needed to look stronger than the other. So I promise that next chapter I will right the wrongs I made and clear some things up. Again I am sorry.


	71. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about five minutes after the last chapter.

Aegon:

 

It was a ruin, a sunken ruin that would have been just as likely to claim his life as not. The Children's Tower guarded the southeast of the causeways and was willowy and slender as he once read them being. The Drunkard's Tower leaned as a man would hobbling off from the floor of some stinking tavern and the stone was stained white on its western side. The Gatehouse Tower stood straight and proud and the direwolf flying above it had practically served to shake half his army's spirit when spotting it. The Rivermen had whispered amongst themselves and greatly feared the spirit of their former King.

"Dead men don't talk or lead armies, boys." Ser Bryce Brune assured them and time proved him wrong later.

Jon Snow was alive however and not dead. Worse was he was leading an army. He flew the Stark banner proudly and was a man of even more proven ability. Proven enough that he banded the northmen and wildlings together in an army. A piss poor army of questionable loyalty to each other but he could say any different from his own? And could many men claim different? It is a leader that leads and a King who unites and it is a man bold enough to claim himself better than those he leads that changes the world. That is what he was taught and that was what he needed to remember. Jon Snow's efforts still would all have been disastrous for him if it came to battle. It was something worse all together that the fiery heart of R'hllor still flew over Moat Cailin. Stannis Baratheon needed to be dead, he could not still be amongst the living or all hopes of Moat Cailin being overcome were impossible and Aurane and his ships would have to open the way of White Harbor with all the northerners drawn away.

The Baratheon was dead though, and it was a strange relief that it was Eddard Stark's bastard that came to meet his parlay. Stern faced and stoic were the traits he was taught Lord Stark possessed and an undying sense of honorableness and strong love for his family. "I will give them all fire and blood for my sister and mother. They are traitors and they deserve nothing but the kiss of the Stranger." He had promised Marwyn as a foolish and naive child who had nothing but hate and anger in his heart. "Eddard Stark, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, Tywin Lannister, his dogs, and Robert Baratheon."

"And that will earn you many supporters and vassals will it?" Gulian Swann had questioned as he laid in crippling pain on his bed. Still hopeful for the future and the pains of age still at their beginning stages, his back was still strong enough to resist the damage it had taken. It would have been only two years later that the pain would render him immobile and lame on his deathbed. "Punish those you don't like and reward those who you do? That is how tyrants are made and I won't suffer a third Aerys. It was an Aegon your father wanted you to be and an Aegon I will see you made." It was one of his many foster father's favorite line. Or when he had drank much wine or more milk of the poppy. "It was to overthrow a tyrant and man gone mad that I marched with the son of Steffon and Cassana. Just as I fought beside the turncloak and false knight Barristan Selmy in the Stepstones to end the false Blackfyres. I never marched to war to murder helpless babes and end lines or start new Kingships. It was to save lives that Jon Arryn declared war on Aerys and it was to save the Kingdoms that I marched with Robert. I still remember my families oaths, I still remember it was the Targaryens who ended the petty squabbles and countess Kingdoms of these lands. I still remember when liars and oathbreakers were punished."

But Eddard Stark was a better man than many of the rest and that ought not to be forgotten or ignored. It was Eddard Stark who protested the murder of his sister and mother and it was only the Lord of Winterfell who spoke out amongst the Storm Lord's council. The losses they suffered in the War of the Five Kings seemed a fair trade for their part in Robert's Rebellion, mayhaps more even. A father for a father, a mother for a mother, and a sibling for a sibling. Nothing more and nothing less if it was up to him. He would not be forgotten however, his children would not be punished for the sins of their father and that was a kindness he felt he would not have afforded if not for Varys. "What a benevolent boy you're turning out to be." Marwyn had taunted him at the age of ten and two. "Forgive but never forget. That is my lesson and what you do with that knowledge is your choice." It was on his tenth day of birth that Marwyn had found him fishing in the village of Dunwich and when he gave his catches away for sport did the man impart a something he would never forget. "Goodness is your disease, Egg. You do well to lose or it or your life. The world does not reward men for such virtues and I see no reason for you to weigh yourself down with it."

"You should have forced the issue." Garlan whispered to him. "When the men hear you let Jon Snow remain on his feet than his knees they will have justification to be angry or fight with the northerners." It was no use worrying of now and from Garlan's view he could not say he would think differently, but his friend knew not how many had failed trying to fight the North during winter. He was not a student of history and had never read from the tome of the Winter Kings and never was read the haunting tales of Brandon Ice Eyes and his war against the slavers during a long and gruesome winter.

"Men of the Night's Watch have no king and they take no part in the politics of the Kingdoms." He explained to his friend as they rode back to the camps. "As I see it Jon Snow is still a man of the Night's Watch and when we reach the Wall I will press the issue."

"That seems ... dishonorable." His friend of nearly seven years murmured and he wasn't wrong. Though neither was killing Joffrey with poison or killing a father as a scapegoat. But that would be unkind nor wise to say and if he liked to maintain a innocent outlook who was he to tell him different? Or mayhaps he wished to wear Robb Stark's armor and lead the assault of Moat Cailin instead of diplomacy. "But I trust you." And Aegon too trusted Garlan, more so than Willas and Aurane combined in fact. The Velaryon was too greedy and vain while the elder Tyrell was too practical and his ambitions too well guarded.

He changed quickly out of his ringmail and into wool clothes dyed purple, black boots that halted below his knees, and a heavy black cloak. On the center of cloak was a single headed dragon made of silver silk with red flames billowing from its opened maw. Men called him King and smallfolk named him half a god, but he felt nothing of the latter and only the former when a sword was in his hand. Men likened him to Aegon the Conquerer or Daeron the Young Dragon and he named them fool. He was Aegon the Sixth and his name was would be just as he was and would be in life as a leader of his people. "I've finished the beginning of my book chronicling your life." Marwyn said in a gleeful fashion that nettled him greatly under the surface. "The Lone Dragon seems an apt name. You were the last of your time and burdened the crown without siblings or progenitors." If he had hoped to hearten him he had failed miserably and robbed him of a clear head going into the parlay with the northerners.

Not that it mattered, Jon Snow looked half dead and seemed just as eager for peace as he was. "This seems reckless. Wait until a few thousand have made it through the gates at the very least." Balon tried to counsel but it made no difference either way. He would be the first man through the gates and he would show the northerners he held no fear of them. Should they attempt a falsehood which he found unlikely if Jon Snow was everything Arya told him her brother was then the deal would be off and they would kill both Starks. It was something he hated to admit but it was necessary. Both Rickon and Arya were to be the last through the gates after the majority of his forces and then he would remove the fears his bannermen had.

"This bastard of Eddard Stark can't be trusted. I saw it in his face." Lord Randyll protested. "After our forces enter into Moat Cailin we shall turn our weapons on them and end all the remnants of Stannis Baratheon's claims in one day."

"No we shall not." Aegon stated with all the finality he could muster as King and stared eye to eye with the Tarly. "I offered them peace and will give them peace. I wish to end a war and not start a new one, Lord Randyll." The marshal of the Reach did not look to be enthused or even plagued by his attempt to intimidate him. Lord Tarly would not speak out in front of all the men and could not afford to. So he bit down on his lip and swallowed down his pride before leaving to go ready his things for travel.

The eyes of the northerners as he passed under the iron wrought gates were filled with hatred. Or was it distaste? "A sight these lot have never seen before. A dragon in the North." He murmured under his breath and ignored their glances as he was met with the man who held them together. "Lord Jon. Come to greet me once more?"

Jon Snow was unhorsed and unarmored as he came towards him. "Yes." He was curt enough that one could almost hope him friendly and not as cold as his name suggested. "Though I was not expecting you to be the first man." His smile even seemed cold and harsh. He may have been only half Stark, but he did seem to share many qualities with his trueborn siblings. Which was slightly reassuring to Aegon and so he descended from his pale horse and handed the reins over to Ser Humfrey and walked with the Snow.

"Shall we share a few words on the walls together? It will take some time I fear." Aegon exclaimed and Jon agreed and led the way through the ruined castle onto the decrepit walls. Many of the more rough looking men and women sneered at him as he walked and if not for Jon he wondered if they would have stopped at that. Though if they did his Kingsguard would have had to cut them down. As they arrived at the top of the walls it took a few moments before a dozen ornate chairs of hardwood were carried out and placed in a half circle. Jon was the first to sit and only after Aegon expected the movement did Marwyn follow it, though his Kingsguard preferred standing. The Snow's own guard were not far away and fingered their weapons carefully.

"I understand you are the one who sent my brother's bones to Winterfell." Jon exclaimed in a strong but quiet voice that made Aegon think of his younger half sister. "Thank you." Though that didn't sound anything like the youngest Stark girl to him.

"It was only right. The Stark tradition is to have their kin entombed and buried in crypts do they not?" With an sword of iron draped across each and every effigies lap to ward spirits was what he had read as a boy. Jon Snow nodded and kept his silence as watched the armies slow march through the gates. "What in Gods name is that?" Aegon wondered aloud in great fear as he looked upon a great beast of matted fur built like a man but far too big and hairy to be one who slept against a half wall near the Drunkard's Tower.

Jon let loose a small chuckle before even turning to look at the monster as if he expected it. "He's a giant, your Grace. His name is Wun Wun and if you mean him no harm then you have nothing to fear from him. He doesn't eat men or meat of any kind."

"Well what does he eat then?" Whatever the 'giant' ate it had to be nearly a carriage sized amount every other day.

"Greens and vegetation mostly. He does have a great taste for wine too." The Snow explained with another small chuckle.

Aegon felt a trifle happier that he had in fact brought wine at that admission. "A giant." Marwyn exclaimed in great mirth. It must have been a good long time since he had seen one, Aegon guessed. The stories of the wonders beyond the Wall were always his favorite as a child and the fabled giants and skinchangers always caught his enjoyment. "He speaks the Old Tongue, I suppose."

"Can you speak it?" Jon Snow asked in amazement.

For all the fascination Marwyn held on the giant he seemed to forget how Stark Jon Snow looked. "Aye, I remember a few words of polite greetings."

"Where would a maester learn that? Most men think the giants are nothing but myths and stories."

"I'm an Archmaester. I know nearly every language in the known world in some capacity. When I was younger I once ventured beyond the Wall and traded with a group of wildlings and taught them healing skills and in return they let me travel and learn from them. That was nearly twenty years ago." That was a story not even Aegon knew and he felt as surprised as Jon Snow looked.

"Where is your wife and child?" Aegon asked as he realized he had not seen any women near. "Did you leave them back at Winterfell or are they here with you? I'm sure both Arya and Rickon would be happy to meet her." For how Jon Snow had reacted to his words Aegon almost feared he threw a punch at the man and not a question.  _Does he think I mean to threaten them?_

"They-they're both in a better place now." The Stark said barely louder and clearer than a whisper.

"I see." Aegon exclaimed as he untied the skin of wine that hung from his belt. He then laid it clearly in view on his lap and added. "You have my deepest condolences." Gently as he could manage he handed the skin of wine over to the Stark who looked down at it strangely. "It's not poison I assure you." With a quick swig he drank a mouthful of sweet substance and tried to fight his gag reflex and the burning in his throat.

"Thank you." Jon replied and then took the skin in both hands before taking two large gulps from it.

As the Snow tried to give it back Aegon shook his head. "Keep it, I don't like to partake."

Somehow the bastard of house Stark found amusement in that and said in bewilderment. "You realize how strange that is, with all due respect, your Grace. But I'm not sure I've met a man who would willingly admit that."

In truth Aegon did not care what men would or would not admit. He hated the effect it had on the mind and the ways it would dull his senses. It gave men a lack of control they ought to have and he was not a man who could ever lose control. He had countless people relying on him and would not shirk his responsibilities like his father. Robert Baratheon was one who drank wine to an excess and it rendered the once strong and solid warrior a fat and sweaty oaf. It turned the once handsome and fit Aegon the Fourth into a blubbery mountain filled with spite. Viserys was a man of the same merit though less at first but worse as his reign continued. He ushered in a period of peace and happiness and made the Red Keep a place of songs and laughter which sowed the seeds for the Dance of Dragons.

It was a happy sight to behold when his Storm Lord made it through the gates on his tanned courser and hopped off it and embraced a wide jawed girl with ears as big as Edric's. With a great roar of laughter and happiness he swung Stannis Baratheon's daughter around as if she weighed nothing. "Her cousin, Edric." Aegon exclaimed for Jon Snow to hear. He figured it would be a similar sight Jon himself would be a part of and that was a positive he felt he could tell the Father in his prayers. "Tell me where is Stannis' wife? I haven't seen her."

"She's dead too. Queen Selyse gave herself to the flames to try to appease her god and bring Stannis back from the dead." Jon said plainly and it was quite apparent he held no fondness for the woman. 

Aegon had been a small child on the cusp of manhood when he first saw the Florent woman and remembered thinking himself her a man with the wispy hair above her lip. She was a woman known to curse Edric if the boy in question was to be believed. With each passing day though he resembled a boy less and less and had already started sprouting dark and coarse hairs on his cheeks. Even his mind had started maturing and Aegon wondered how much of that was due to the loss of his bed warmer whose name eluded him. For Selyse Florent to give herself to the flames however invoked an oddly sickening feeling in his gut not for the act itself but for the hope of what it would accomplish. Zealotry he found could be one of the worst blights suffered on men and women for the acts they commit in its name and for the easy justification it allowed for heinous crimes. 

Theo Wells was one of those men and while he did not doubt the man believed what he was doing was just, it made no difference. He would cause problems amongst the Northmen and whoever he could if it seemed right to him and that was something Aegon could not abide by. The High Sparrow made an astute maneuver for someone uneducated and supposedly unambitious. For what right did he have to deny the Warrior's Sons a place amongst his ranks? For what right did he have to deny the Seven's holiest of avatars? If it was ten years earlier or later he would have liked to string the man up by the walls of King's Landing and if the dirt crusted old man made it that long he would. He just needed a few good years of peace and happiness, he needed enough stability in the realm. He just needed time, the time he was promised and yet here he was on his way to the Wall.  _Prophesy bites your cock off every time._

It was not the worst bout of silence he suffered with the bastard son of Eddard Stark. Together they sat on the Walls until the sun began to set and the snows started to fall. Only then did he see the direwolf banner with both Rickon and Arya Stark on a shared palfrey ahead of it. Without word or whisper the Snow hopped from his seat and sent it clattering to the cracked stone surface as he bolted down the steep steps three at a time. From his vantage he could see her well guarded and her face gave away nothing, no hope, no joy, no sadness, it was as if she expected everything to be ripped away or for her to wake up from a dream.

He remembered the aftermath of the Twins all too easily as he looked upon her. It was after the remaining defenders of the Twins locked themselves in the dual towers and barred the doors shut that he gave over command to Ser Loras and excused himself. Before reaching his tent he vomited against a fallen oak tree at the stench of the burning flesh that wafted from the bridge as his army set fire to the base of the towers in a succeeding effort to smoke the Freys out of their holes. As he pushed his way through the fur flaps of his pavilion he nearly soiled himself at how quickly the Tarth woman had a sword against his throat. "This is your fault!" She screamed and with shifted eyes he looked over at the Stark girl bleeding on his bed from her shoulder as Marwyn stitched the wound closed.

Before his men did something he would regret he called out to Humfrey and Rolland. "Keep your weapons sheathed!" And on his command the two men let go of their weapons. With all the calmness he could muster in his voice he told Brienne. "I didn't force her-"

"But you let her go all the same!" The Maid of Tarth was unrelenting and he felt the cold steel of her new blade dig into his neck and it drew just a hint of blood.

"You best remove your sword if you still want me to help her." Marwyn exclaimed with little to no care without looking up from his work.

Arya's voice was small and weaker than he ever heard but she still regained consciousness. "I understood the risks, Brienne. Leave him alone." It seemed she was the only one who held control over Brienne and for that Aegon was happy when she removed sword and sheathed it again.

"Will she be okay?" Aegon asked the maester who look up at him through bushy eyebrows.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here. I'll be fine." The headstrong Stark girl promised and then nearly cracked the wood that made up his cot with her iron grip as the red hot needle dipped under her skin once more.

"She'll make it. A few bruises and swelling is all there is other than this shoulder wound which will heal up nicely. The scars of it however will haunt her for the rest of her life." The Archmaester who had healed millions if not more pulled the thread though the wound with great ease and sealed it closed. "It would have been much easier on her if she just drank the damn milk of the poppy."

Aegon knew that it must have been a price well worth it in her mind. For her trouble she traded a scar of the mind for a scar of the flesh. The Twins were burning and house Frey would pay tenfold for their crimes and all it took was a laceration to the shoulder. "Walder Frey died in his bed." Her voice gave out as she struggled to form the words and Brienne gently tried to coax the girl to stillness which had ill effect. "I couldn't get to him in time."

Ignoring the fact she acted out of the plan he still found that disappointing. He would have been lied if he did not think her likely to take an attempt on Old Walder's life herself. "Are you just telling me that? If you killed him yourself I won't begrudge you it." At the time he thought it likely.

"I'm telling the truth ..." Her breathing was something that worried him more than the wounded shoulder. "He must have died a few days earlier." It was after the siege had ended that her admission was proven correct and that the old Ferret had died three days before their arrival.

The state he found her in was not one he expected before sending her into the Twins. She was supposed to be a member of the infamous Faceless Men of Braavos, a shadow in the dark who could pop out from any corner and steal a life.  _Could Varys be wrong?_ He wondered at the time and still did even now. Varys was almost never wrong and it was on that directive he thought her suitable for a role in the Kingdoms. He had come to far and she had learned too much to go back now. "Regardless of your condition, you did succeed." Her gray eyes were unfocused and she looked liable to pass into unconsciousness as hurl from the pain, so he spoke quickly. "Know that now I have trust in you. I trust you and you've proven to me you have the ability to forge your own path."

"So?" She questioned and it almost succeeded in making him laugh. Most of his courtiers would consider themselves a lady or man of the highest honor to receive those words and she threw them off like they meant nothing.

"So from here your life is your own and to me you've proven you have the conviction to live it as you see fit. I cannot vouch for the consequences some of your choices will make or problems they will incur for your family, but know I don't see you as a child." Aegon felt silly for saying it, but it was all he knew to offer the Stark girl that she might feel is something of value. Validation for her path and for the way she chooses to live. If Lady Sansa wished to play courtly intrigues and marry her sister off for political gains he cared not, she would receive no help from him. Somewhere in the middle of his words did she lose consciousness but he liked to think she understood him.

It was after Brienne had carried Arya back to her own pavilion with her giant direwolf tagging along that Marwyn had sent his Kingsguard away. "Do I need to remind you of your father, Egg?"

His words had provoked a sense of anger in Aegon and it was rare the times he would lash out and that was one of them. "No, no you do not. I don't need to hear of that man."

Marwyn's scowl was on its full and most grand display then. "Well I think you do."

"And I think you should leave me be and go help some other souls wounded out there rather than try to shame me with your conclusions." Aegon wouldn't look at the man as he spoke to him and went for the one item he found gave him strength. His egg was kept safe and sound in his personal cache just as he had left it. The egg was impossibly smooth and he traced his fingertips as he had many times on the waves of gray mist that circled over a sea of dark blue scales. "I am not my father and have no desires on her. Can I not respect her without wanting to fuck her? Or are those two not mutually exclusive in your life when it comes to women?"

He may have been old but he did not lack for physical prowess and his punch came quicker than Aegon expected it. Marwyn was still old and Aegon felt he was in the prime of his life and with ease did he duck under the punch and skipped away with the egg under his arm. "You little shit."

"Me? You must be confused." With a heavy pitch he tossed the egg onto his now bloody cot and stood toe to toe with the much stronger man. "If I'm getting this much of a rise out of you I should guess I'm not wrong. I wasn't the man who fucked and knocked up a noblewoman while forging a maester's chain." That had little effect and many would notice it did anything at all, but the subtlest twitch of the cheek was all Aegon needed to see. "I wasn't the one who ruined my love's reputation. That was you. You drove Malora mad with your talks of magic and mysticism." The next punch came quicker than the first, but still that was not quick enough if he had a mind to dodge it. Aegon though took it with all the force meant and let it land on his mouth and the force of the punch floored him to the hard dirt. "I deserved that," He spat out as he felt his lips begin to swell. "but I won't apologize."

"Of course you don't. Because you wouldn't mean it if you did." The stout and grayed man wrapped his meaty fist in Aegon's tunic and pulled him back to his feet. "You are a little shit. You just love to push and push and anger me."

"And you were out of line. I know my responsibility to my Kingdom and won't forsake those duties for any personal affections." Aegon's mouth hurt the more he talked and he just wanted to be left alone with his egg.

The Archmaester's face softened and he lightly tapped him on the cheek with his open palm. "I'm sorry. I just worry, you know that."

Marwyn worried too much however and could prove to be frankly insulting at the worst of times. Aegon knew he was not some love struck fool like his father was, he was not lust driven like other men. His lust was for peace, he hungered for a long life and to see his family restored. The rest did not matter for him and he could find happiness in the comfort that he had left something real and stable for his children be they born of whoever he needed to marry. Be it Princess Arianne or Lady Margaery or even Myrcella if Tyrion had his way.

It warmed whatever heart he felt he had left when the tears from Arya's eyes flowed and she jumped and tackled her bastard brother Jon to the ground and smothered him. It quickly became an emotional affair between the both of them as the joy was free and a plenty between them. It was with great hesitation as to not ruin their moment he climbed down the stairs and watched. "I missed you so much." Arya exclaimed into Jon's chest with a shaky voice. "I still have needle, I learned how to stick them with the pointy end just like you told me." They both tearfully shared a laugh and to Aegon's muted horror the youngest pup of the Starks did not join the two siblings. Rickon with great confusion came to Aegon's side and looked at Arya and the strange man.

 _Damn you, Rickon._  Aegon with the front of his knee tapped Rickon in the back and hopped neither Stark noticed his effort in making the boy go to them."That's your brother, Rickon."

"Rickon, it's Jon. Come over here before I carry you." She ordered him in great spirits as she had found her brother again and nothing would ruin that for her.

"Do you remember me, Rickon?" The Snow asked the boy with kind eyes and open arms.

He thankfully nodded his head and took several steps closer though each careful and tentative. "You're Jon Snow. You're my half brother." Rickon had said so as if he did not understand the meaning of the words. "I don't remember you." That seemed to befuddle Jon Snow but only for a moment before he called for Rickon to come closer which he did thanks to a pull from his sister who dragged him into their hug.

It did not take long for Jon to recommend they go back to his chambers in the Gatehouse Tower to talk privately and both brother and sister promised each other day's worth of stories. Arya had to nearly drag Rickon behind her and foolish the boy took the time to look back and wave to Aegon. "Stupid child." He murmured to himself. There would be time to speak with Jon Snow another day. This was his day to enjoy and it would not be ... kind to damper his happiness. Any man deserved to be happy with his family.With his faithful Kingsguard at his back he turned and went looking for the one item that filled the hole and sated his hatred. "Bring me to my egg."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strangely hate Aegon, like him, and find him depressing all in one.
> 
> I wrote this at the same time as I did the last chapter and it is the last chapter I have finished so I don't know when the next time I update will be.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it or part of it and if not tell me why.


	72. A Wolf in Sheepskin

Sansa:

 

"Please personally escort Lady Megga and Lady Margaery and be sure they arrive at the Maidenvault unharmed." She ordered a dozen of her husband's men in a hurried voice as she heard the loud noises of arguments in the halls. It was madness, nothing but madness and confusion that had gripped the city in the wake of the morn. Dornishmen with no banners or sigils razed the Three Towers. The Ironborn sacked Oldtown and drowned Ser Garth Hightower on a sinking ship. A maester in training even swore he saw King Euron Greyjoy personally split Baelor Hightower's brightsmile up to his cheekbones. The Tyrells blamed the Martells and the Dornishmen lashed out in retaliation. No knight of the Reach would suffer any slight from the dornish swine as she heard from the mouth of Harwin.

"I believe they already have guards, M'lady." Said a man by the name of Gaerys.

"And I want you to make sure they make it safely and without conflict." Sansa ordered before she turned and walked to the balcony of her apartment chambers and felt the refreshing cold wind. It offered a grand view over the main road up and down Aegon's high hill and one could see every man and woman that approached the castle. She was certain that any drunken dornishman would think twice of harassing Margaery or her guards while a half dozen soldiers from the Vale guarded them. They wanted to cause trouble for the Reach and not the Vale.

A short while after the men left she heard a loud series of knocks on her door and Harwin announced through the sturdy wood. "Princess Arianne and her cousin Lady Nymeria desire a word, M'lady. Shall I send them away?"

"No!" Sansa screamed to the man and promptly regained her composure. She smoothed down her hair which felt sticky and matted to something she hoped did not look too off. "Bethany sit up straight." The Blackwood girl in question kicked off the floor and did as she was bid with a happy smile as they would have company. Sansa moved back over to her dining table and poured a paltry amount of watered down arbor wine into her clear crystal cup and quickly downed it to calm her nerves.  _You're in control, you hold the power. Be calm._ She ordered herself and then plastered on her most inviting smile that she would give her mother when cross with her. "Please let her in." She called to her captain.

Promptly the doors swung open and Princess Arianne strode towards her dressed in a clinging gown of bright orange samite worn sleeveless and above her thin brows was a circlet of red gold. Behind her was her bastard cousin Nymeria Sand who was in a more subdued dress of cotton with a sole sleeve that hung and dragged down to the floor. Flanking the both of them were five armored men of the Vale who watched the two women closely and at the ready for any signs of threat or malice. "Lady Sansa you cannot believe these slanderous accusations being leveled at my family and I." The heiress of Dorne stated with a fiery temper that was poorly hidden under her words.

"Of course not." Sansa responded as her hands met with the Martell's and she tried to soothe the older woman. "The Tyrells have always been the treacherous and ambitious climbers willing to lie to gain anything. I fully believe that your family and people hold complete innocence. However you do see the hard place that stance puts my husband and I in, do you not?" It mattered little to Sansa what the truth of this conflict was as either resulted in the same problems and she needed to maintain her neutrality in this at all costs. The smallfolk of the Reach were the ones in her prayers right after her unborn child and her kin when she prayed before the heart tree in the Godswood or when praying the Seven in the Red Keep's own sept. Baelor was further than she liked to travel in recent times and her prayers had to remain in her own head there. For the most holiest of septs had grown ears and fallen prey to the intrigues of the Kingdoms. At least that was what Lord Willas had warned her in whispers, be it true or not it wasn't worth any risk. What she said to the Gods were not for the ears of men.

"Well ... I do not mean to twist your arm. I just simply ask of your confidence if it comes to a question of my loyalty." Arianne Martell was an aspiring player and it was only natural to Sansa she would seek out a powerful ally in the city. In her head Sansa guessed the woman thought herself astute and clever for making the first and boldest of moves. Whether it was done by choice or necessity, she however did not know. It was no secret that the Dornishmen had barely one thousand men stationed in the city and supposedly thirty thousand near the dornish marches, though not a hair or whiff of them was mentioned by any not leal to Dorne. The Princess had pleaded to any that listened the army was moving through the eastern routes, and if Sansa remembered her geography correctly then the Three Towers were decidedly west.

"With the crippled Lord of Highgarden named master of coin, my say is but equal to his." Lady Nym of the gilded whip exclaimed in more a more pleading tone than she had ever heard from any dornish. The master of laws yet was quite wrong as from where Sansa viewed it. Both Tyrell and Martell sat on the small council it was true, but Willas' power was much greater than his position alone which was something Nymeria could not claim. She in essence was in the very same position Petyr once found himself in, yet she doubted greatly that the dornish bastard would know what to do with half of her power like he did. "So with you and your husbands vassals alongside us we can stay whatever retribution the Reachmen are planning long enough for word to reach our King." That was what Sansa was trying to do regardless of their efforts, and she had much more faith in those she knew than those she did not. Though she did it a better idea to send her pleas to Tyrion, he was closer and he was one of the few men of power that she trusted to desire peace as much as she.

"If it comes to talks of violence or actual conflict of any kind I swear to you that I will see it stopped with all my power." The unspoken neutrality of her answer seemed to elude the Dornish Princess, but her cousin seemed less elated by her admission.

Their 'unexpected arrival' lasted near to supper and by the time they left her chambers Bethany had grown grumpy from boredom and picked at a loose string on her dress long enough that it caused an unsightly hole. "You've ruined your dress." Sansa admired as she examined the frayed linen. "We have supper with Lady Margaery soon and you need to be presentable."

"I don't want to, they're so boring and no one ever talks to me. Why can't we just have supper here?" The little Blackwood complained as she arranged her black hair into a stylish coiffure that accentuated her deep green eyes.

She smiled sadly at the girl and pulled her into a deep hug. "Because I promised them that both of us would be there. It is is expected of you as one day when you're the lady of Winterfell. When that time comes you will be expected to meet with and be affable with many you would prefer not to and those you can barely stand the sight of. But it's expected of you and you must do what is expected of you." The girl's eyes grew wide at her words and with a great sigh Sansa called out. "Harwin, have word sent that we will be late, and try to find Gretchel." Standing back up to her full height Sansa took her future sister's hand and pulled her to a full length seeing glass and out of her ruined gown. Frequently did the Blackwood ruin her dresses in some fashion and even more oft did she spend the night so Sansa had many of her things carried and brought to a spare bedchamber near her own.

By the time Gretchel had arrived she had already finished dressing Bethany in a frock of warm wool dyed an earthy green that accentuated her eyes with eggshell colored trimmings. "You called, M'lady."

"Yes, I need you to mend this." Sansa exclaimed over her shoulder and then turned to face the wide faced woman who appeared tense. "Is everything alright?"

Her handmaiden scurried over and picked up the torn garment and quickly went to work assessing the damage done. "Yes, M'lady."

It was obvious everything was not alright with her, but Sansa had no time to spare if she hoped to not show even later then they were supposed to and resigned on trying to extract a confession later. "Let's go, Bethany." Without any more complaints the Blackwood followed her out the doors and they met with an armed escort of a dozen Valemen led by Harwin who wore a direwolf surcoat and no falcon. He was a homely man, Sansa acknowledged and even when she was just a girl he was never one to attract attention with either his appearance or wit. His years amongst the Brotherhood did no favors to either and his face was now graced by a multitude of scars and blemishes. Harwin did prove himself a dependable warrior during those years though and was proving himself a reliable captain even amongst men not well known.

The walk to the Maidenvault had taken much longer than she planned with endless old men and women of all ages who requested a 'short' word. In the past few days she sometimes reminisced the former days when many would not have been caught dead communicating with the traitor's daughter. Now it seemed everyone thought of themselves as a close and trusted friend of hers, the worst of them were those she recognized as having laughed as she was stripped in the throne room. She wouldn't trust any of them to give her a skin of water let alone gracing them with her trust.

As was their habit a small supper amongst 'friends' was anything but small, and Margaery had managed to fit what seemed near fifty nobles in their chambers. It was a loud and lively get together with many different wines free flowing from the Arbor, Essos, and the Vale, nearly anything not dornish related which she found amusing. Dozens of meat pies, candied greens, tender cuts of meat fresh from the fires, and endless platters of frosted cakes. In every corner there were dozens of brightly colored flowers that smelled fresh and intoxicating. Organized around the room were several singers and musicians and poets who sung of glorious battles and ballads of love struck maids who conquered all odds. "Where is Lord Willas?" Sansa had asked Margaery in whispers when she picked out his absence. Of all the potential seating neighbors she wished to speak with him the most of all.

With bright smiles and all too familiar touches Margaery explained. "With all that has happened he's locked himself in his solar with his trusted bannermen planning for what our next move is. I tried to go to him and coax him into joining us, but alas he answered not my pleas. But he did send his well wishes and apologies to you for his absence." It was then that the exceedingly fat fool Butterbumps flipped onto the table with extreme dexterity and despite his size he walked up and down the long table on his hands without so much as knocking over a single cup. "I must thank you as well for those brave men you sent to my side. It really was too kind, you know I do have many capable guards of my own."

"I just wanted to make absolute sure that no harm befell you from those dornish. We are friends and as such I could not stand for that." Sansa replied in a quiet voice that she made sure none could hear over the singers. "The audacity of them truly is distressing I feel. The moment his Grace and his Hand depart they believe they can act as they please." 

"I'm so happy to hear you say so, I wished not to involve you in all this. But your husband is Lord of all the Vale and you are his wife. If it came to it I hope I could find an ally in you, Sansa. My family has always adored you and if it was not for your marriage to Lord Arryn you and I could have been sisters." Margaery's attention wavered and then she laughed and giggled as Butterbumps passed by them with a rump roast balanced on his own enormous rump. "One day soon when I am queen I hope very much for a marriage between our children."

Nothing would have made Sansa punish her children with that fate. She saw what it did to Cersei and what it could have done to her and she would not let that befall her children. Even if Margaery and her family somehow negotiated a pardon for her crimes, which she found unlikely given the circumstances. "I cannot wait for that happy day." Sansa murmured before taking a sip of the fine arbor gold. "You truly deserve him." For all of the Tyrell's schemes and plots Sansa didn't mean it. She wished that fate on no one living. The crown had a queer way of souring those under it and twisting them into something rotten. Even King Aegon seemed different when he wore it, he was somehow colder and more menacing with a crown on his head and his common louring nature seemed to grow worse. She could not imagine what it would do to either Martell or Tyrell.

It was late when Sansa had found an opening to excuse herself from the Tyrells. She half had to carry Bethany back to her rooms for how tired and tuckered out the girl was who earlier complained of boredom but in fact had more fun than she had seen her in after coming to King's Landing. With Harwin's assistance they had carried her to her bed and after sending the man away she had Gretchel help get her comatose form into a night shift and tucked under the warm covers. The wine had affected her more than she thought it would and with shaky footing she put herself at the head seat of her dining table and rested her eyes. When she awoke Gretchel had long left as the embers of her fireplace had nearly burned themselves to nothing and Bethany's dress was repaired and washed. The hard chair was not the best place to fall asleep she realized as she felt the pain in her lower back and before pulling herself to her large bed a short series of knocks echoed on her door. "Who is it, Harwin?" When no response came she guessed he had taken his leave and left Edwyn in command as he commonly did. "Edwyn?" Again when no response came she stumbled over to her dresser and removed an ornate dagger with a gilded silver handle that she was gifted from Lady Anya Waynwood. "Who's there? Tell me now." She demanded.

It was a strange and low, but yet harsh voice which replied. "Garrett of Longborough. I was ordered to give this piece of paper to you, M'lady."

Sansa cautiously made her way closer to the door and held her blade at her side. "Who sent you? And where are my guards? Someone should be out there."

"Ser Darric Mandrake sent me and I don't know tis true, M'lady. No one is out here but me and I have not saw hair or smelt stench of them." His wide shadow danced under the doorway and she thought twice about screaming for help but guessed if the man meant her harm he would have just broken the door down. "I can leave it right down here if you feel scared or nervous."

"Do that." She ordered him and with a short grunt of annoyance from the man she saw his shadow grow smaller before he slid it under the door. The letter was of a simple exterior design and was closed with not a seal of wax but by a thin pink ribbon tied in a bow. It smelled like of normal parchment and with a cut of the blade she removed the ribbon and read the few words that made up its contents.  _Well played, Lady Arryn. You may make it out of King's Landing a victor yet._ It was not signed and if it was it mattered not as that would be a lie too. "To whoever gave this to you, tell them that I am not to be intimidated and that I am not playing to win. Just survive with my family intact." Sansa knew for certain one thing and that was the Mandrakes were an extinct line. "Or if you work for anyone at all that is."

It was a short few moments of silence that followed before the man let out a small giggle. "Surviving is winning. If you don't know that yet then you still have much more to learn. A shame Littlefinger didn't extol that in you. If he did you may have been a charming opponent, mayhaps even a fitting queen if things had worked out differently."

With a quick grab of the door handle she flung it open and held her dagger at the ready. Only there was no one there, just an empty hallway dimly lit by flickering candle light. "You don't scare me, Lord Varys." She called out to the darkness that surely hid the Spider of the Red Keep. "I've lost enough to this game play you play and I have no patience for it any longer. Leave me and my kin out of your plots and schemes or I swear by the Old Gods and the New that I will end this peace we sit on. Tell your King the same." She would have lied if her own words had not scared her and yet in that moment she felt more sure of herself than ever.

After shutting and bolting the door closed she felt compelled to run and cower at every shadow as if it was an armored man, but just the slim chance of the Spider watching made her compose herself and continue calmly to her bed. When she arrived at the foot of her bed she stripped of her clothes and dressed in a warm shift of ivory and brushed her hair until it shone before climbing into her bed.  _You are a Stark of WInterfell, you aren't scared of some fat eunuch._ If only her thoughts made it so she would have felt blessed. The night would be restless she guessed and could not help but let her mind wander to her sister and younger brother who never seemed scared over anything. Harry too was unbridled by fear and was marching at the head of the Vale to regain her home for her brother and she felt slightly lonely at the thought of again being alone.  _I will see Winterfell again._ She promised herself.  _And you will too._ She mused as she rubbed her still flat tummy that would soon grow round with child. Dreams of a happy babe with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair in her arm while she sat under the weirwood of Winterfell did well to ward off any nightmares. To her great shame the thoughts were not of her husband, but another man who crept into her mind. 


	73. Winter Falls

Arya:

 

Winterfell was just what she remembered. It was what she longed to see and was where she belonged. Though many buildings of old were ruined and scorched it was still home. Jon had warned her of its current state courtesy of the Boltons before she saw the gates, but none of that mattered. It was home and nothing would change that, if she had to rebuild it by hand, stacking stone on top of stone, nails driven into planks she would have done it all with a smile. After snapping out of her longful daze she continued her questioning. "Did you bury her before you left?" She asked him as they rode side by side under the double gates.

Her brother solemnly nodded and the pain should have been mental, but from how he carried it she could have sworn it was a wound of the flesh for all the world to see. "Yes. I plan to have a real tomb built for her soon. I know it’s not tradition, but it feels right to me." From how Jon described his wife, Arya greatly mourned never being able to meet her.

“Maybe you should have her carved with a child in one arm and a spear in the other.” From the stories Jon told her Val was a fierce warrior, Arya knew that if she had a choice to be buried in the crypts she wanted a sword to be carved in one hand and the other to be petting a direwolf. Just like the old stone tomb of King Brandon the Breaker who carried an axe in his right hand.

"I like that idea. I think she would have approved too." Jon exclaimed with a sad smile that made her want to jump from her horse and embrace him again. She had stayed close by his side since Moat Cailin and reluctantly Rickon followed her lead though he was much more reserved to her annoyance. Nymeria had taken to the runt of her siblings quite easily as Ghost was a quiet and calm presence and never tried to fight her for dominance like Shaggydog commonly did. "And she would have liked you too. You both are so alike." Her brother added with an even sadder laugh to mask his pain.

 _I should have been here. I would have saved you and stopped her._ Arya thought to herself and cursed her decision of not turning north after Sansa's wedding. She knew Jon was in trouble, how could he not have been? He had just left the Wall and his vows to save Jeyne who he thought was her. _I should have turned north after I stepped off the ship. I should have met him at here and helped him._ She liked to believe that she would have done just that if not for the Aegon and Harrold. They were the ones who went after her and stuck their noses where they did not belong. It was their fault the wolves went mad and it was their fault Nymeria’s pack was dead and it was Aegon’s fault he was injured. That however was not a problem anymore, Harrold was an idiot and Aegon seemed happy to be rid of the burden.

Rickon's joy at seeing Winterfell again was evident in the way his hands tightened around her waist and how his breath quickened. Before she brought her white garron to a stop he swung his legs off the steed and then leaned into sprint towards the Great Hall with Shaggydog close behind. “Greetings, M’lady Arya. May I tend to your horse?” Greeted a stable boy who looked close to her own age.

“Be mindful of him, he bites.” She warned the chestnut haired boy as she handed him reins. Promptly did the new stable master take Frost from the boy and deep into the stables along with Jon’s horse to be fed and taken care of. The new stable master was named Bors and to her was a stranger to her and sadly no Hullen or even Harwin who she remembered leading her around the courtyard on the back of a pony. Nymeria's fascination with her old home was one Arya found curious as the grey direwolf sniffed at everything she could and seemed taken by even the slightest of noises. "It's been too long for both of us." She exclaimed as she buried her face into her direwolf's mane. “But we’re home.” It took all her will not to cry as she felt Nymeria’s warm breath tickle her neck, but she would not let anyone see her and the time for that was when she slipped under the covers of her bed and no eyes were watching her.

Before she pulled away from Nymeria her brother's pale wolf moved to her and rubbed his cold nose against her cheek. "Ghost, to me." Jon ordered and like the faithful and loyal companion he was, Ghost moved back to him and they waited side by side for the coming of their 'honored guests'. "Arya can you go and find Rickon? Ease him into everything. I'll come find you both after I see to our guests and get them settled in." Her brother looked nervous as he stood there and she wished she could have stayed with him, but he was right and Rickon needed her. Though she felt she was not even capable of easing her brother into what Winterfell was now, she did not even know what it was and knew much less of it than Rickon had. He was there when Theon betrayed them and he was there before it’s burning. "Tonight we’ll have a feast to welcome them. Hopefully it will ease some of the southrons bloodlust." It had been a tense point of contention between Jon and some of the other Northerners over the southerners presence. By the end it was agreed that most of the southron army and lords would be housed at Castle Cerwyn while the King and a chosen few would stay within Winterfell.

Without delay she turned to follow her younger brother's trail which led into Winterfell. It was much of what she remembered and the warmth that rose up through the floors from the hot springs was something she forgot that she missed. Many serving women and men were on their hands and knees in the halls with steaming buckets of water trying to clean the tracks left by Rickon and preparing the castle. For a boy who loved to hunt and prided himself as being half an actual direwolf he was easy to find. Following a track of wet mud and doors thrown wide open she found Rickon at the head table of the room. Before showing herself she noticed his longing stare directed at her father's former seat. "He's not here." His murmur echoed loudly through the dining hall and several servants she did not recognize looked up at him. From how the current state of the room looked she wondered if the hall would be ready, several toppled wine cups, half eaten plates of food, and a sour smell wafted into her nose. When she took her first loud step to let him know she was there his hand shot out and grabbed the arm of the throne.

"I know." Arya said as she walked towards him and she ran her hand down the smooth wood of a trestle table she loved to run back and forth on as child. The groves from where she had frequently dug into the table as a young girl that gave her great comfort as they were still there. "I miss him too. I can almost still see father sitting there." An old woman tried to avert her gaze as she passed and then Arya took two steps at a time up to the raised Lord's table. After arriving at her brother’s side she wrapped her arms around him and embraced his tense little body.

"Bran." He whispered and repeated with even more anger. "This is Bran's seat."

"Not anymore." It was not something pleasant, not something she liked to think about, but he needed to understand that it was not Bran's any longer. "Bran’s gone, Rickon. It's not an easy thing to accept, but he's with mother and father ... and Robb. They are all together now." It gave her comfort to think they were watching over them. Her mother grieving over her still not being married or not yet having learned to sing or sew. Robb was supporting her and watched with amusement whenever she turned down some stupid lordling. And of her father she knew that he still believed she had chosen the right path. Now Bran was with them and was climbing to the spires of all the highest towers wherever he was.

With a strong jerk Rickon pulled away from her and put the stone chair between them. "No he's not. He's alive and I can feel him. You could too if you just tried." It had been a point of contention between them, the only one. The harder he would push her into praying before a weirwood the more annoyed she would become. The trees did nothing for her father and they did not for her. So why should she offer them any thanks or waste any time on them.

"I don't believe in the Old Gods anymore. I told you that." His bright blue eyes hardened at her admission and he shoved himself off the platform and landed with a heavy thud on the wooden floor. "They never helped me, they never even helped father, or Robb and they won't help you either. The only thing you can trust in this world is yourself and your family. Not magical beings in the sky or in the dirt or trees or fires. Everyone is just out for themselves."

"I hate Harry. I wouldn't give him a hand up if he was drowning." That was why she loved him so much and with easy grace she slid under the table and dropped next to him. "You wouldn't either ... and isn't he our family too?" He asked as she lifted him off his feet and into a hug.

"He doesn't share any blood with us. Marriage doesn't make him our family." She said as he struggled and uselessly fought against her to be released. That was a game he should have known by now he would never win.

"Her child will have Stark blood running through his veins just like us. The baby will be our niece ... or nephew if its a boy." Rickon insisted.

Arya gave him the reprieve he so desired and sat herself on the table and was happy to find it dry. As he tried to get back to his feet Nymeria pounced on him and licked at his ear causing her to chuckle. "That's different and you know it. Like you said we will share blood. When you marry Bethany Blackwood your children will share blood with me and I'll love them." When Rickon tried to get back up her direwolf pushed him back down on the warm floor with huge paws.

"What about when you marry Edric? Will I have to love your children?" Rickon said with a dark snicker that forced a snarl from Nymeria. Being Edric's bride was a depth even her nightmares would not go, she grimaced at the thought of children with him. She pictured dark haired children with her eyes and two giant Florent ears on both sides their head and no brain in between them, just like their father. To defend his little boy the black direwolf Shaggy pounced on Nymeria and knocked her to the ground. With general ease Arya watched her wolf gain dominance in the play fight. Rickon though took full advantage of Shaggy's distraction and rolled to his feet and then climbed up on the table to sit next to her.

"I'm not marrying that shit. And I’m certainly not having any of his brood." And for his taunting she tried to pull him into a headlock, but he maintained his distance and slid further away which dragged his arse into a pool of spilled wine. "Now that Jon is here you don't have to marry Bethany either. Sansa might be mad, but she'll get over it."

"No, I want to marry her. It's what's expected of me." Her little brother stated with little confidence that told her he wasn’t quite so sure as he wanted to be.

“What’s expected of you? Who expects it of you?”

“Sansa does, Nuncle and King Aegon too.” From how the servants’ heads perked up at his admission she knew word of Rickon calling the southron King, the King would not go over well. “Nuncle told me that the Blackwoods are a good family and it would be hard to find a better bride. Aegon made the match himself he told me. Her father died knowing his daughter would be the Lady of Winterfell and it would be cruel to not live up to my word.” Her brother strongly argued.

“It’s not your word you would be breaking. Did you promise Tytos Blackwood that you would marry his daughter? No you didn’t, Aegon Targaryen did and Sansa agreed to it on your behalf, but you didn't accept. You’re the Lord of Winterfell now and you never agreed to anything. If you wanted to you could have every serving man and woman tossed out in the cold for spreading rumors.” From the corner of her eye she then spotted a balding woman drop her hard wire brush into a soapy bucket and with great struggle did she leave the hall with an arched back.

Rickon took a moment to understand her meaning and after said. "That would be pointlessly cruel. Everyone talks too much and they all like to spread rumors. Let them listen, I don't care."

"But I do." She whispered and dragged him closer to her to prevent any more outbursts. "You will need to care soon. Do you think Jon shares his honest thoughts with the world so freely? Or father or even Aegon? They know that as leaders they need to be mindful of what they say and what others hear from them." His eyes wavered away from her's but she needed to know he listened to her. "Do you understand?"

He nodded and the steel she liked to see in his eyes then returned. "I do, and I will still marry Bethany Blackwood. It's only right."

With a snicker she brushed his bangs from his face and planted a wet kiss on his forehead which he promptly rubbed away. "That's your choice and I respect it. I'm sure when you're both of age Sansa will have turned her into an ideal wife and lady of Winterfell." Arya wouldn't be so cruel as to say that it was likely he would be marrying Sansa in spirit, he didn't need those thoughts in his head. Starks weren't prone to the sickly practices of Lannisters or Targaryens and did not stand for incest.

"I want to go to the Godswood." Her brother stated and then kicked off the table. With impressive speed Shaggy wrapped himself around Rickon's leg for protection after receiving a sound trouncing from Nymeria. "We can both go and you can hear Bran for yourself. I know you don't believe anymore, but if you just try-"

"My god is death, not white trees with faces carved in them." The Old Gods never helped her. Despite all of her pleading and prayers they gave her deafening silence. If they had real power and cared for the doings of men then the world would not be what it was. She knew there was a reason the Andals beat the First Men and made them convert to their seven gods. Of the Andals' Seven, only the last of the aspects was real and he was the Stranger. All men be they good or evil found his kiss in the end, your beliefs held no importance as death found and snatched all in time without fail. Her brother would never understand that, and if somehow he did it would not be for a long time. He was still hopeful of the world and expected kindness and the best of people. "I'll come with you, but don't expect anything." Before he could run off to the Godswood she stopped him by the nape of his neck. "Later we can go together. Right now we need to go find our bedrooms and make sure no one has taken them from us."

"Shaggy and Nymeria will scare them away. One howl and they will piss themselves with fear." Her brother stated before striding out of the room with a happy step as Shaggy followed close behind.

With a tiny bit of interest she turned to look at one of the many unfamiliar serving folk of Winterfell. Gone were the days of Vayon Poole pestering her father about taxes and food stores, Jory and Ser Rodrik keeping careful guard of her family, Septa Mordane croning endlessly and Septon Chayle worrying over her roughness of his beloved books and scrolls. The old smith Mikken and his sly and approving smiles, Farlen always fussing over his dogs and his daughter Palla's chastity, but most of all she missed Old Nan and her bedtimes tales. The frail looking girl who scrubbed the stains from one of the many trestle tables was not someone she knew, and she did not want to know her.

She found no reason to watch them any longer, they did nothing but disappoint her so she followed after Rickon and as she rounded from the room she heard him say. "It was Arya and I." The broad chested man in enameled white armor chuckled under his breath at his admission.

"Ahh, I heard some laughter and thought something was amiss." Replied Lord Commander Balon Swann who had a flushed face that was burned raw from the cold wind.

Arya placed her hand on her brother's back and put on her best manners and friendliest smile. "Hello Lord Commander. I don't see your King, I thought you were sworn to shadow him for the rest of your life?"

The man's smile never wavered and he replied. "My presence wasn't required at the moment. Your bastard brother is giving my brothers and King the royal tour, I rather prefer to explore for myself."

"So instead you listened to my brother and I talking? Not very knightly of you to eavesdrop, Ser."Arya shot back with the sweetest smile she could make.

"Not on purpose I assure you, it was just a peculiar thing to hear in a castle such as this one." 

"What does that mean, Ser Balon? I hope you aren't trying to insult my home."

The man ran his hand through his thinning hairline and shook his head quickly. "You misunderstand me, Lady Arya. Winterfell from appearance alone gives me a feeling of ... dread, and makes one think of power and strength. If laughter and merriment was a castle then Highgarden would be it. WInterfell feels much more like Storm's End to me."

Arya had never seen Storm's End, but she knew of it as one of the strongest castles in Westeros which if rumors were true made it akin to Winterfell. "That seems fair, when I was a little girl my family's maester Luwin taught me that my ancestor Bran the Builder had a hand in the construction of Storm's End with Durran Godsgrief."

"I heard much of the same when I was a wee lad no bigger than Rickon here. Though I also heard stories that spoke of the Children of the Forest helping the Thousand Year King resist the Storm Gods' wrath. Who knows the truth of it." The Swann's eyes wandered up and down the stone walls of the hall and his gloved hand ran across the rough bricks. "But all the same this is one of the greatest keeps of Westeros and it's reputation is well deserved. Take that from one who has seen almost all of them."

His sarcasm was quite evident to her and what he meant to gain from this eluded her. "Even in it's current state, Lord Commander?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye," His face never glimmered once and he seemed genuine, though she had known liars who looked more innocent than him if they wanted to. "While some of it's ruined and dilapidated, the foundations still remain strong. That tells me the Starks built this castle to last until the very end times when all is turned to dust."

"My ancestors built Winterfell in the same way they raised their children. We're a hardy folk and are difficult to kill, I think that should be quite obvious to you southron by now." Arya promised. She had lived through the war ravaged Riverlands and made it out better for it. Sansa survived in the greatest nest of snakes in the world and made it out with a better stake in the world. And Rickon grew through the war and prospered in the rough and rocky island of Skagos.

That broke the man's admiring of Winterfell and forced a deep smirk on his visage, but he kept his amusement silent. "No one could deny that, believe me. Winter is coming as your family claims and just one look outside proves those words right." His smile was warm and for what she had seen of him, and she had to admit he was one of the few men of honor in the south. If it came to conflict she would not be eager to see his life ended. "What I'm trying to say is, is that I'm happy to see your home returned to the both of you. So is our King, even if he doesn't say it in so many words he wanted this for the both of you. He suffered exile once and was forced to watch his family dragged through the mud." The Swann's eyes dimmed before he placed his hand to his heart and then excused himself.

The walk to the room she had spent her early life was harder than she would have liked. Each stair she counted in her head and every window she passed made her shiver. When she walked into her old room she found it much like it once was, though now it was barren of all but the necessities. A four posted bed with two layers of linen and three cloaks of light fur, three chests of ironwood and dark brass fittings that she would have to fill her news belongings into. The hearth was cold and looked like no one had occupied it since she left it for King's Landing, but she knew that wasn't true. It was a short while later that Shaggy heralded her brother's appearance and it seemed his room was much of the same. Foreign and unwelcoming. The sun had fallen and the latest flurry of snow had abated before two burly men brought her things to her room. It was halfway through sorting her dresses and breeches into their proper place that the delicious smells of fresh bread and cooking meat wafted up from the kitchen and with a great whine Nymeria urged her to hurry her efforts.

"Arya, it's me. Can I come in?" Jon called out through the door and then two knocks hit the solid wood.

"Go and let him in." She told her younger brother who she had already forced in a clean set of clothes and brushed his hair into something respectable that Sansa would approve of. Through the small looking glass in her hand she spotted Jon who had cleaned up himself and was dressed in a fresh pair of dark breeches and heavy woolen overcoat that stopped at his thighs. "What are we having?"

Her brother smirked and took a seat by the window before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, Lord Manderly seemed pleased with the food stores the southerners brought with them. It smells like roast pig to me." As he said the word pig Nymeria let loose a loud howl in hunger that Arya had to agree with. "Sorry it took so long, but I needed to make sure they felt welcome. I trust you found your way around easy enough."

She nodded and finished the last braid of her hair before she said. "Well enough, I don't recognize anyone here. I hoped to see someone still here, but I'll get to know them soon enough." The Spider of King's Landing knew every name of every servant in the Red Keep and through them he knew every time one person let a toe out of line. This was her home and Winterfell was hers, she would ensure it never changed and any past loyalty to Boltons would not be allowed. If it was her choice the Dreadfort would be raised to the ground and salt would be sown in its grounds. But Jon insisted that it remain standing for Jeyne Poole's child with Ramsay. She deserved something for all that she suffered, Jon told her. "How long will you stay?" Arya asked as she retrieved her needle from the bed and slipped it into her left sleeve.

Jon's amusement was plain on his face and with a chuckle he admired. "If you'd like I could have a real sword made for you. It's so tiny now."

"No!" She spat out. "Needle is perfect. I kept it all this time just like I promised, at times it was all that reminded me of who I was. Without it I would be lost." His amazement at her still having that 'old thing' annoyed her. Did he expect me to throw it away? She wondered when he first questioned her about it. "Needle is everything that kept me from giving up."

"Fine, little sister," His voice caught for a brief moment then. "Just try not to stick anyone with the pointy end tonight if you need to keep it with you. There are a lot of people who want to meet you, Alysane Mormont you'll-"

"You didn't answer my question. How long will you stay?"

Jon's face darkened and his head hung over. He kicked his boots together as he thought of something that would please her. "I have to, the Wall needs help."

"It doesn't need you. Let others handle it, together there are eighty thousand men between both armies. Let the Greatjon and Aegon Targaryen lead them, you gave enough of your life to fighting. Stay here with Rickon and I and we can rebuild Winterfell. In time even Sansa can join us after the snows settle." Arya argued with anger building in her belly.

"It's not a choice, Arya. You know I would like nothing more than to stay, but they need me. My brother's on the Wall need help and I already broke my oath to save my family, you are all safe and Winterfell ours again. I swore to serve the realms of men and I need to fulfill that oath."

That wasn't true, she knew that. "Stannis Baratheon released you from that oath."

"You're right, he did. But I was wrong for accepting Winterfell, and as far as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms are concerned his word meant nothing. To them I still am sworn to the Night's Watch and have a duty to fulfil. As long as I stay here all I will do is undermine Rickon. They already look at me as the Lord of Winterfell and for his safety I can't stay." Jon did not sound sure and she knew he did not believe those lies himself. "Aegon Targaryen has followed his end of the deal so far, I can't betray that."

"What does it matter what he wants? Is he the one forcing you to go back to the Wall? I can convince him, or Rickon can to let you stay. And if he still says no we can kill him." Her words poured from her mouth like a tide and with she felt her eyes sting with tears. It wasn't fair that everyone was leaving her again. It wasn't fair that Jon had to give his life up to watch snow fall and trees freeze from the Wall while men like Walder Frey lived happy and to the age of ninety.

With great speed Jon made it to her side and wrapped his strong arms around her. "It's alright. I don't think I could handle that from you." He exclaimed as he wiped her eyes dry with his rough and calloused hand. "He's not forcing me to do anything, I need to do this myself. And Rickon needs you to help him lead,"

"You don't have to go if you don't want to." Her little brother stated from across the room. His back was pointed to them and his shoulders hunched over in a feeble attempt to not look weak. "I won't make you leave. You could be my castellan."

Jon's smiled at the little Stark and walked across the room to him. "Do you not want me leave either, Rickon?"

"It's your choice."

"No it's not. It's mine and I say no." Arya corrected. "And you don't want him to leave. You just want to look strong."

"Well," Jon started and chuckled meekly before turning Rickon to face him and kneeling down to his small height. "I won't make any promises about the future, but if I return to my oath I promise I'll come and tell you both before I do. Then you can try to talk me out of it." He looked back and forth between the both of them and said. "Deal?"

"Do what you will." Rickon murmured and then with a will of its own his hand found its way to Ghost's fur. "I won't stop you." He said as he began patting Ghost.

It annoyed her greatly, but if that was his offer she would accept. "Fine, and if you don't I'll come and drag you back to Winterfell myself. I'll tie you to my horse and everything."

"You better," Jon's smile wavered and he put his hand on the door. "It's time to go, we don't want to keep our guests waiting. There are a lot of people who I've had to ward off with a stick that want to meet both of you. Lord Manderly, Jon Umber, Alysane, Lord Reed, and Lady Sybelle Glover. I think you'll both like Black Donnel, he's easy to talk to."


	74. Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More foul mouthed this chapter is in more than one way, so here is just a small warning of Strong Adult Language and Strong Sexual Content.

Aegon:

 

For all things that Jon Snow was rumored, no man could claim he lacked the ability to inspire loyalty in men and women of all shapes and sizes and statuses. Or the ability to make one feel welcome in a place he had no right being in. He was a man of average height nary a hair shorter than himself, but was thicker and stronger. His eyes were a darker shade of grey than his sister's and could almost be called black. Over his right eye were three long gashes that had long healed into a gruesome scar. When a man or Mormont would tell a jape he would laugh, but only for their benefit. He may have thought himself skilled in hiding his emotions, but to one who knew those tricks it was plain to see. Only when Arya talked to him or Rickon would ask a silly question did he seem to have any emotions Aegon felt were pleasant. "It really is three hundred feet high, Rickon. It's hard to believe, but I swear to you it's true." Jon explained to the youngest Stark who never failed to lap up even the smallest scrap of knowledge given forth.

The offerings at supper he felt were sufficient. "I don't enjoy carrots. But the yams are quite delicious, Lord Manderly. It was a fine recommendation." To please the obese Lord Manderly he spooned another orange helping into his mouth and swallowed the sweet substance.

With a deep grin the man wrapped his fat sausage like fingers around a jewel encrusted goblet that was filled with a dark amber. "It's not easy to grow many crops in the North, but no yams in the world can best those of my land." For all his boasting Aegon had to admit he was correct. "I understand from Lord Jon that new fleets will be directed towards my home of White Harbor. Sixty ships is it?" His questioning gained the attention of Lord Snow who quietly listened in.

"Seventy ships and all Braavosi. As long as relations remain civil between us, I'll do my part as King to help my northern brothers through this winter." Many of the Northern Lord's resented the word King being thrown around, but he would not bandy vocable for their sake. "My master of ships Aurane Velaryon will also be arriving any day now with new war ships."

"And I will ensure he is treated like my own family." The Lord Lamprey promised. "Did you know that one of my great grandmothers was wed to a Velaryon?"

Aegon nodded and then flashed a small smile at Rickon who tried to hide the act of feeding his vegetables to Shaggydog. "Aye, I did. And I remember learning of a proposed match between our families long ago."

"A very long time ago it's true. She was a daughter of the Conciliator who died before the wedding in a riding accident. My father told me of it several times during Robert's Rebellion. Said we swore our allegiance to the Targaryens for centuries just as we did the Starks. He wasn't in favor of the war you see, but I was." For all his unkempt appearance the man did have a peculiar sort of courage. If Aegon was a lesser man he felt it would have been a reasonable response to have opened the man's huge belly and watched what sort of bile spilled from it. "And yet here we are. The North and Targaryens are friends and allies again. Sharing wine and food and songs. Such a grand time we live in." He finished with a large laugh preceded by a rough cough that launched several pieces of half chewed food across the table.

"To friends." Jon toasted with a tip of his drinking horn.

"To allies long separated, but now together in arms again." He echoed Jon's action and then downed a cup of sour brown ale that made him gag. "Quite a kick." He admitted when the Greatjon snickered in his direction.

"It's a northern brew that is. You won't find anything half as strong as that in the south, most of your ales taste of piss, hah!" The Greatjon boomed as he downed a horn twice as big as Jon's and bubbles clung to his long beard.

Jon looked perturbed by the giant man's comments. "Please, Lord Umber. There's no reason to insult our guests."

"It's fine. I took no offense." Aegon tried to sooth the Snow's fears.

Marwyn who sat two seats down from him let out a laugh that matched the Umber's. "He's right, our ales are all watered down messes compared to this. This brew will get you where you want to go and for a fourth of the coin." He was noticeably slurring his words and Aegon was happy at least two men were having a good time.

"See that chained man knows the truth. But what sort of man that willingly wears a chain around his neck like a dog is beyond me. Do you have a set of balls underneath those robes or a wet cunt?" The Greatjon asked with another boom of laughter.

The stout Grandmaester found more amusement in that than Aegon or Jon did and shot back. "At my age it wouldn't be wet, I've seen enough of those to tell you they prune up and grow dry as a boneyard."

"Please." Jon begged them as their loud chatting drew several stares and pulled attention from many people he did not want to notice.

WIth an absent minded stare Aegon looked around the table and spotted the Stark girl who with one hand held a fork and the other was caressing her wolf's neck. "Don't mind me. I've heard worse, but I would like to keep my appetite which I'm sure I'll lose if you keep talking about your cunts." Arya Stark exclaimed with a small smirk that made a dozen men explode with laughter.

It was one to his shame he shared with them and Jon Snow nearly lost his own icy face in favor of a warm smile from her admission. "A girl from my own heart!" Exclaimed the Greatjon with a beef leg in hand. "Are you married, Lady Stark? If not the Last Hearth needs a new lady and I would be lucky to have you."

"Don't take any offence, Lord Umber, but I would rather rip my own tongue out with this here fork." Arya held her tongue out for all to see and held the metal prongs to the fleshly and pink thing.

The giant of a man slapped his knee with laughter and everyone at the table shared half as hard in his amusement. Even Rickon let out a giggle before feeding Shaggy half a carrot cooked in honey and butter. It was after the laughter died down that every man and women at the head table broke back off into their own conversations. Rickon shared stories of Skagos with Jon Snow, the Greatjon, and Lady Mormont. Black Donnel Flint clumsy flirted with Arya Stark over the story of why he was called 'Black'. Lord Manderly and Marwyn compared the many wines they had drunken in their long lifetimes. It left Aegon to stare dumbly at the short Lord of the crannogs from down the table. "Hail, Lord Reed." He said after too long.

"King Aegon," The tiny man with green eyes replied with a bit of shock behind his wise voice. "Fairing well I hope?"

"Well enough. Less so if I had to spend my nights outside of this castle." He said with a small laugh to punctuate his feelings. "It's a wonder how this castle is kept so warm."

Before the little man could answer Arya Stark broke her conversing with the scarred but queerly handsome Flint. "My father always told me it was the hot springs under Winterfell, and the water is piped through the walls and floors. The Starks of old built our castle here to make the winters more tolerable."

"Clever them. I know it must mean little to them, but I thank them for their great foresight. I fear I don't take to this weather well at all, the sniffles plagued me on the ride here." He said with a smile directed at the youngest Stark girl.

"You're not alone in that." Lord Reed exclaimed. "I too don't take to the cold as well as my more northern friends. My home being so close to the Riverlands means the frost doesn't chill one's bones as it does this far north. Winterfell is nothing but a oasis in this land during the winters." The Lord Howland sipped a clear crystal goblet filled with water and took great time forming his next words. "Forgive me if I've been staring this eve."

"I hadn't noticed," He lied. "and it's no trouble. It comes with the crown and heritage."

Howland Reed nodded his head and the man's moss colored eyes lingered with his violet. "You just look much like your father. Hair, shape of the eyes, and forgive me, but your temperament reminds me of his."

Aegon did his best to take the compliment as it was meant, as hard as it was. He had nothing of his father, shared nothing with the man but his looks. Anyone who said different was deranged, his father was a lust struck fool who threw away everything and nearly ended a dynasty. Aegon spent his entire life towards restoring said dynasty, it was all that mattered, prophecy be damned he would not fail. Not even death would stop him or get in his way. "I've heard as much, quite frequently. I take no offense, Lord Reed."

"I've heard many tales of your conquests in the south, some say you broke the Bloody Gate down single handedly. Some say you scaled the walls of King's Landing." Howland said. "Before we depart for the Wall I would like to learn the truth of it. Hearsay is no way to learn the truth of a man, even less so a king. If one took the rumors of your father as truth than I wouldn't have mourned him as my foe during the rebellion."

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time in the next few days. I think I have some questions to ask you as well, its not freely do people enjoy telling me of Robert's Rebellion. I think they fear invoking my wrath when speaking of their part in usurping and deposing my family."

Jon Snow broke his attention from Rickon's storytelling and turned to face Howland. "Please remember your place, Lord Howland." He said looking as white as the fresh fallen snows that lined the walls of Winterfell. "Some things are left better unsaid."

"There is nothing to fear, Lord Jon. I wouldn't dream of insulting our guest, or betraying your trust." The small crannogmen stated.

It gave Aegon some wonderment how thin skinned the northerners thought he was. He knew that Howland fought on Robert's side as Eddard Stark's bannermen, so what act could he have done that would surprise him? His role was no worse or better than Lord Royce or the Blackfish and they were important members of his kingdom. "He's correct, Jon Snow. There is nothing to fear, I don't offend quickly."

His assurance did not seem to relieve the Snow at all. "I don't fear him insulting you, your Grace. I just feel that time is better left buried, digging up the past will do nothing but create tensions for both of us."

"That is very wise and prudent, but I disagree. I would like to hear what Lord Reed has to say." Aegon replied with the most sweet smile he could muster. "With Lord Rickon's leave of course. I wouldn't want to insult him in his own castle." He added with a wink to the Stark in question.

"I don't mind." Rickon shrugged before getting back to his story of the great log halls of Skagos.

The little man with a braided goatee nodded at little Rickon and then looked back to Jon and then Aegon himself. "That settles it, mayhaps we could speak sometime more privately."

"I would like that very much, Lord Reed. Perhaps you could also tell me of this floating castle you call home. I have heard rumors and stories of it since I was a wee lad." Aegon laughed and tried to ignore the intense stare he received from Arya Stark.

"In the Storm Lands was it? Right under Robert's nose you were kept hidden. Do I have the truth of it?" Asked the Greatjon with slur that preceded a great belch that smelled sour. The Targaryen scion nodded and the Umber Lord continued. "Never knew that Swann Lord, but I saw his banners amongst ours all the same during the battle at the Trident. What made the man turn, hmm? Robert was his liege Lord and then his bloody King."

That was a question that vexed Aegon as a child and it took many years of built up courage to finally ask him one night. It was in the lordly solar that he sat with the man before a great roaring fire in his hearth and the Swann lord had downed five mugs of frothy beer that Aegon felt he had the best chance at learning the truth of it. "You want to know why you're here and why your pretty head isn't adorning Robert's throne do you?" Gulian Swann grew quiet after he that. Aegon had nearly pulled himself from the room and collected all of his wooden knights before he was told to sit down. "I wondered when you would ask me, took you so long I almost hoped you would never get the courage to do it. Marwyn will moan and complain about this I'll wager, but you will be my king one day and my father and his father bowed to the dragons ... not tiring old maesters."

With a sharp backhand he cleared the chair next to him of the stacked books that had occupied its seat. With general ease he lifted him into the second chair and then took his time nursing a sixth mug of beer. Gulian Swann had been much stronger in those days and the cudgel that had broken his back during the rebellion was still a fresh scar to him, but he was younger and stronger than. His many wounds had not taken their toll and pound of flesh from him. It was five years later that he was confined to his bed and lordly seat.

"It was after the sack of King's Landing, after the Kingslayer besmirched his white cloak with Aery's blood. It grew worse after I saw your sister's body and the babe I thought was you wrapped in that lion cloak. But after I heard Gregor and Armory gleefully proclaim all their depraved acts to Robert and the realm, after I heard my liege lord say Dragonspawn ... I could hardly look at myself. I felt a monster in a Kingdom of monsters that was once inhabited by heroes we killed. I watched Barristan slay the last Blackfyre as a boy, I met and laughed and drank with Prince Duncan, and I squired for Lord Commander Duncan in a tourney. I knew what good and courageous men looked like, and Robert and his ilk are nothing but killers and murderers of babes. No better than Aerys was." He had downed the last of his beer and chucked the mug across the room and they both watched it clatter down to the floor. "Go pick that up for me." He had asked him in a weak voice.

"No." He shamefully remembered.But he had been sick of hearing excuses, sick of blame shifted and excused. "So you felt guilty? Marwyn says guilt is for fools and weaklings."

"That man says a lot of things, I try not to listen to half of it. Full of shit ... or manure. Uses his head and all that book smart he learned at Oldtown, nothing else. Guilt and regret make you human, boy. Under that crown you'd do well to remember you're still a man, too many have let all that power get to their head. I won't have the histories blame me and my house for putting another Mad King on the throne." He was wrong. With power and a crown he felt he had more perspective than ever before. It was after and with great strain that Gulian lifted himself from the squeaky seat and retrieved his mug which cracked in several places.

"If I would've had my way you would still think of yourself as my bastard. I would have seen you grow a humble and good boy, one sculpted to rule without even knowing it. I know you'll argue and moan otherwise but even the mere mention of being King has given you pride. Knowing you're the last hope for your seed has made you feel an immortal and hero. I bet at night you think that life you'll live will be told in the tales and songs for all of time." His laughter rang throughout the room as he opened the taper on his cask of beer and filled his mug. "Just like me at that age, but for both of our sakes I hope you make more along in your ambitions than I did. My grandfather's ghost would laugh me out of Stonehelm if he knew I was trusting our house's prosperity and future to a little boy. My father would have beaten the skin off my hide and disinherited me for Clifford if he was still breathing and straining my patience."

"I won't let you down, and I won't fail. I swear it on land and sea, mountain and sky, and ice and fire." He repeated the solemn oath Marwyn taught to him without hesitation or stutter.

The Swann patriarch nodded and seemed pleased as he took his seat before the flames again. "I hope so, oh I hope you won't."

Aegon shook the memories of the past from his mind and cursed himself for thinking of it. The past held nothing of use to him, it did not but distract and hold him back. It was the future he could change and not the past full of mistakes of his own and of others. "He remembered his oaths ... and what it meant to be loyal, Lord Umber."

"In the north we know much about loyalty. All of us at this table never forgot our oaths to the Starks." Black Donnel Flint confirmed with great pride that only grew when the dining hall banged their fists on the hardwood tables in agreement. "Your men were causing problems in winter town today."

"First we're hearing about it. If this is true why didn't you come to us immediately, our Grace would have sorted things straight." Rolland Storm stated fiercely. "Tell us, Black Flint, what trouble was raised." He added with a chuckle that was meekly shared with the Greatjon and Boulderfist.

The scarred boy seemed to be shaken by the challenge directed at him but did finally explain. "A girl was stolen-"

"Stolen? We're not wildlings, boy." Humfrey laughed over the brim of a horn of ale from behind Aegon. "There camp is two miles down the way, you'll be able to find them easily enough by the blood curdling screams. We are knights of the south and we don't steal girls, we charm um and they come crawling to our furs to get tastes of real men."

"Hopefully not you, Ser Humfrey. You did swear oaths." Aegon said with all the humor he could muster. He did not need them fighting and insulting each other right now, especially a member of his kingsguard. "I'll ensure it does not happen again, Lord Flint. If there are any more problems don't hesitate to take your complaints to me, directly."

"He's no lord, just a ugly little clansmen from the mountains." The Greatjon bellowed out in laughter and then nearly knocked the Flint from his seat with a clap on the shoulders. "Loosen that scowl and stop picking at threads, boy. This is meant to be a night of fun and ale. Pay more attention to the pretty lass beside you and not the floozies your men and mine lost. Treat that one right and you may find yourself a wife in these next coming years." The giant of a man added with a clumsy wink directed at the darker stark girl.

To his shame the Flint's cheeks turned a shade as pink the mutton on his plate from that piece of advice and his eyes never did drift far for the rest of the night. Half of the hall had drank themselves sick and dragged women to their beds before Aegon had pulled himself from his chair for his bed. Jon Snow had taken his admission as a good chance to excuse himself and his siblings. With some parting words the Snow took the sleeping Rickon in his arms and carried him away with his little sister following close behind with their trio of direwolves. His own room had been one of honor he was led to believe, it offered a grand view of the courtyard and an even more astounding view of the rolling snow covered hills. Warmest chambers in the castle he had been told, once belonging to the lady of Winterfell Catelyn Tully. Balon had sworn it was some vague insult, a slight to offer a king a woman's room was the seed that was planted in his head as he stripped his boots off his sore feet.

"Leave me," Aegon had ordered his kingsguard after they followed him into his room. "it's been a long day and unless it's a matter of life or death it can wait." With a flash of his eyes at both men he waited and after a moment of silence passed between the ivory knights he continued. "Only one of you will be necessary tonight. I'll leave up to you to decide on shifts." Turning from the knights he stripped his purple silken doublet from his body and threw it onto a bare table. With small interest he walked to the opened window and spotted a pair of drunken northerners throwing blows in a snow drift.

"I sent Humfrey and Rolland away." Balon exclaimed through the iron and oak door. "Are you sure you won't need me tonight?"

Aegon stared down at his maimed left hand and squeezed his fist tight and to his dismay still had only half of his strength. "I'm sure." He almost forgot to say. With speed he pulled an outfit of undyed wool and cotton from his traveling trunk and dressed himself down. "Try to get some sleep tonight. You've earned it, brother." Aegon then pulled out his familiar hooden cloak and tied it tightly around his shoulders. "Left foot first?" The Targaryen then made sure to leave dark sister on a spare hook and in its place strapped two daggers to his hips.

"Aye, and then it's a fifteen foot drop." His ever faithful brother advised with a grunt.

When the door groaned against Balon's lean the Targaryen king stepped through the window and caught his foot on a errant stone on the castle's wall. It was harder and more harrowing then it was in his head, more slick due to the fresh snows too. "You can climb down a damn wall." He cursed himself and stepped far down with his right foot and nearly fell. "Clumsy shite." It took him much longer than he planned but eventually he came to the end and dropped with a great plop in a deep snow pile. Looking around the yard he spotted the burned sept and great hall which was barred up for the night. A small guard was left before the gates to Winterfell and on their chests were the Stark colors reversed. "Hail." He greeted them in a deeper more guttural voice.

To his thank not one of them greeted him back and only eyed him and snickered to themselves. "How many does that make, turteen'?" A grey haired man japed to another younger man as Aegon passed them and into winter town.

As he walked it seemed every other collecting of lumber and stone was an innhouse still alive with laughter and brawls. However the lodging he was looking for was one kept more quiet and outside of its doors were two burly bald headed lads with foresting axes in hand. "Where do you think you're going, little man?" Asked the one with an ironwood torch.

"This is a brothel isn't it?" He replied with making eye contact. "I heard the women here are the sweetest in the North." This voice more high pitched and weaker.

The taller of the two men had a foul stench that even the cold could not mask which was only noted when he stepped closer. "Depends who told cha' all tat."

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me." The guard shot back and then took another step closer to leer over him. "If it's too much of an inconvenience go stick your cock in a snow pile. I look after Marya's girls here and I won't let some fooking cunt from the south wet his cock and abuse them. Now how did you learn about this here? We just opened yesternight."

Aegon knew it was a leap of faith and so then his hand slinked under his cloak unnoticed by either men. "Lord Harrold Arryn is my liege lord. And he told me you are accommodating to men with coin." Slowly to not make them jump he pulled a coin purse from his belt and held it out for them to see. "Was he lying?"

The torch wielding man let out snicker and set it in sconce. "That man knows how to have fun. Isn't shy about opening his purse and spreading legs neither." The northern man stepped forward and opened his palm. "Came by a long while ago. Still should be upstairs with Rosie." The Targaryen tried to step by the men but the larger of the two shoved him back. "Did he forget to mention the toll? It is so cold out here and coin serves me well enough for my service. Without us there would be no girls inside, bloody wildlings would have stolen them."

It took two stags in each man's hand before they let him in. The tumblehouse was more pleasant than he imagined it, incense were burning on every surface to mask the scents, men were seated in padded settees and tended to by thinly clad women. "Evening my good lord." Greeted a yellow haired women even shorter than Howland Reed. "You won't be needing that heavy cloak in here. We just stoked the fire, Milly, come-"

"That won't be necessary. I need to see, Lord Arryn, I have a message for him." The Targaryen tried to argue as a blue eyed girl pressed herself to him and her hand slipped into his trousers.

The yellow haired girl simply smirked and then undid the loose stitching on the bosom of her dress and flashed a hard and dark nipple. "I'm sure they will be time for that later. Rest and enjoy yourself, you're the prettiest man I've ever seen."

Blue eyes licked her lips and tried to kiss him as he pulled away. "We're much funner than him. Why don't all of us go to a private room and-"

With a quick snatch he caught the yellow haired girl's hand and stopped her from pulling down his hood. "I promise I'll think about it, after. First I need to deliver a message." To punctuate his point he shook the purse of silver and they cleared from his way with smiles that unnerved him. Climbing the steps two at a time he was forced to slip by a pox scarred man who it seemed could just not make it to his room and pushed a woman down to her knees. He tried to avoid eye contact as she took the man's hard member into her mouth and hummed. "Out of my way." He ordered as he pushed by the couple and reached the top step. From his view he counted five rooms on each side of the hallway and with nothing but guesses to rely on he started down the left path. Sharply knocking on the first door he heard a loud grunt that did not sound of Harrold at all. The second door he found unlatched and on the bed was a nude Trystan Ryger who snored loud enough to wake the dead whose flagpole was being polished by a girl he needed to look at twice to make sure she wasn't Brienne.

It was after three more doors opened and some very angry jeers from the patrons he had stumbled on that he found the Lord of all the Vale slumped over the side of the bed naked as the day he was born. With a sharp kick on his pale white behind Aegon waked the sandy haired man from his stupor. "Get up you fool." With several blinks and a sudden remembrance of where he was Harry look up at him with confusion. "Your absence tonight was noted."

"King Aegon." The Arryn said with some joy and climbed back upright on the bed. "Rosie get up we have a most esteemed guest." On his command a girl that had a striking resemblance to Sansa Stark climbed off the floor from opposite side of the bed.

She rubbed the tangled auburn hair from her eyes and looked at the Targaryen with a sultry smile and then draped herself over his muscled chest. "What doeth etheamed' mean?" She said with strangely charming lisp. The Rosie girl did have some differences too with Sansa he spotted, her chest seemed twice the size of Sansa's and her eyes were hazel, not strikingly blue.

"It's not important what it means." Aegon exclaimed and threw the door open behind him. "Leave us,"

"Do you want me to leave?" Rosie asked Harrold as she played with his soft member. "I think we need to all get better acquainted. Highborn like you ithh he?"

The Young Falcon playfully bit her nose and lifted her above him. "Even higher, this ones born from the highest stock. Royalty he is, I think we could all have fun together." With a playful smirk he turned to look at Aegon. "I've never had a girl who could suck my member as well as her, it will curl your toes."

With a threatening glare he warned once more. "Leave now." That seemed to gain her attention and with one last parting kiss on the lips she climbed off Harrold and pulled a red shawl over her shoulders.

"When you two are done, come and find me. I've never been with royalty before." Rosie whispered in his ear before giving it a warm lick.

It was after the door closed that Aegon threw the hood from his head. "You were missed tonight. Your wives bastard brother won't stand for you sleeping around and disgracing his sister like this."

Harrold let out a snicker and waved his concerns away. "It's a long way to the Wall, your Grace." Thankfully the man reached down the bed and covered himself, unfortunately it was with a thin sheet of linen that did not hide his member. "Didn't think there would be many bedwarmers to spare the closer we get." His words were only met with a cold stare that made him add. "Don't you look down on me, you know how bloody cold it is up here. Going to the Wall to do Gods know what, fight imaginary bedtime monsters if Jon Snow has the truth of it. And if he's right what harm am I causing making the most out of what is offered. My da always told me that whatever amount are killed in war are replenished twice over in the bastards fathered."

"Horseshit. You're bored and have no self control. Like a bull in spring." Aegon spat and to his horror and fury the piled furs and covers on the bottom of the bed grew a slender hand. "Really?" Soon after a women with biggest breasts he had ever seen before climbed out of the furs and yawned. "What kind of fucking barnyard animal are you? Do you have any shame or are you immune?"

"They keep me warm." Harrold stated as he slapped the woman's wide arse and left a pink handprint that left her scurrying from the room. "Did Aegon the Conquerer not have two wives?" The Arynn reached over on an end table for a pitcher of wine but Aegon snatched it away and held it from him. "Didn't your father do the same? My wife's aunt and your mother? Some men just realize two are better than one sooner rather than later." His words have nearly made the Targaryen strangle him but he instead took it out on the handle of the pitcher which bent under his grip. "What does it matter to you anyhow?"

"It matters because I'm trying to keep the peace. Jon fucking Snow putting your empty head over block and removing it will make that rather difficult. You two tolerating each other seems much more in my favor and yours for that matter." The Arryn scoffed at the notion of Jon Snow being a threat but Aegon persisted. "If you want to whore yourself into oblivion and get bloated and fat on wine like Robert Baratheon, fine, but do me the favor of postponing that until your child is born. Now good night." The Targaryen handed the pitcher over to Harry and made to leave.

"I do love Sansa. I know you and her kin think otherwise ... but I do." That made Aegon stop in his tracks. "What am I supposed to do? Sleep alone and live like a eunuch?" The words of 'like you' were left unspoken however the sting found its mark all the same. "Her ghost won't keep me company and memories don't give any companionship."

Aegon growled in anger and struggled to keep his voice steady. "You're not supposed to dishonor her you imbecile. Do you think Arya and Rickon will keep your ventures a secret from Sansa? Seven hells do you think she doesn't already know?"

"She'll forgive me." Harrold retorted. "She knows I'll always come back to her, my heart is hers for eternity." The man's blue eyes grew into something that Aegon did not like and he kept going. "I won't make her raise my bastards like her father made her mother. Won't make her look at them everyday. The children she gives me will be the only ones in my heart and for that she should be grateful. With all do respect intended my King, you should just mind your owns affairs and leave me to mine with my wife and my family."

The Targaryen wished he could just leave it at that. Wished he could simply ignore the wrongs he saw, but he could not turn away and would not. "Since you've been so loyal to me, I feel I should be honest with you right now." Aegon said with a dark laugh he didn't know he possessed. "This is my affair." If he had known this is how the man was, he felt he would have left him to die and chose the most pleasing descendant on the Arryn's instead of the blubbering fool before him. "It was by my leave that you married Sansa, and it was by my hand and deception she was annulled from her marriage." It was a sin he felt he would never make up for. He promised himself he would not torment or punish the descendants of any of his enemies. He wanted to make Sansa happy, wanted to make up for all the wrongs done to her and the injustices she suffered. Harrold was handsome, charming, personable and she seemed to love him ... and that still persists to his confusion. "I paid the septon to claim Petyr had annulled her marriage to Tyrion."  _I betrayed my friend, for this._ "With just one word and confession to the High Septon I could take everything back from you. Your child with Sansa is nothing but a bastard, your marriage was just a mummer's farce."

Harrold did not take the threat as gravely as Aegon thought he would and simply poured himself a cup of wine. "And I could take my troops back south ... and poof ... there goes half of your army."

It was with cat like speed that the Targaryen slapped the cup of wine from the Young Falcon's hand and sent the red liquid spewing across the room. "You aren't threatening me are you?" Aegon asked up at Harrold as he stood up to his full height and towered over him with his hands balled at his sides. "You remember what happened the last time, don't you?"

"That was different last time. You know that." Harrold challenged back with a closed lipped smirk.

Aegon simply reached behind him and pulled half of the dagger from its leather sheath. "Is it so different? This feels awfully similar to me." Only this time Aegon would not hold his strike this time, his dagger would seek the heart this time.

The Arryn's face slowly cracked and he let out a loud boom of laughter and clapped Aegon on the chest. "Lighten up, my King. You should have seen how serious your face got, looked like you were ready to cut my damn head off." The sandy haired man loosened his fists and collected two cups of the end table and filled them both. "Come take a cup with me and I'll call some girls in to see to us. You have a preference? Whatever it is I'll pay for as much of it as you want."

"I'm fine, I need to get back to the castle. I feel this trip was worthless." Aegon sighed as he turned and left the room.

"Of course, King Aegon Targaryen!" Harrold Arryn bellowed so loudly that every single man and woman in the lodge could hear him. "We'll speak tomorrow and break our fast with each other."

He did not deem that with a reply and scurried his way past many a man and whore who stared at him with astonishment. Many whispered his name and murmured of his hair and all seemed to just be in his way. When his feet hit the bottom step and he passed by the yellow haired girl who blew him a kiss, he saw something he did not expect. With a glittering of silver the Targaryen reached into his purse and tossed the stags at a short girl who deftly managed to catch three of them before they hit the ground. "You're coming with me, now." He ordered and without waiting for her to protest he snatched her by the forearm and pulled her behind him and out of the lodge. Before either of the two guards outside could raise a fuss he dropped his purse into the snow and sent silver in every direction which they chased and pocketed now without a care for him. She followed him without so much as a peep and when he figured he was far enough away he drew her with him into a shadowy crevice between two buildings. "What in Gods' name do you think you're doing? Were you going to try to kill him?"

Arya Stark was dressed in a nearly sheer dress that did little to hide her body and did well to blend in that environment. Her pretty grey eyes were evasive but with a finger on the chin he forced her to look up at him. "Thought about it. When you came strolling in though I decided to see what you were going to do. I almost thought you were going to stick him for me."

As a cold wind blew down from the north he untied his heavy cloak from his shoulders and threw it around her. "What would your brother say if he saw you in a place like that. It was no place for you-"

"I've seen much worse. Misery and pain are harder to look at than people enjoying themselves and making others happy. War and blood are harder to look at than cocks and tits from how I see it." She said without so much as a lick of shame.

"I don't know what to say to you." He was exasperated and pinched the gap of his eyebrows. "You really are ... I don't know. I have no words for you, and I am never at a loss for words." He tightened his grip around her shoulder and tried to pull her away from the darkness and to Winterfell but she held strong.

Arya Stark wrenched her arm free from him and spat out. "Were you telling the truth?" When the confusion from her question became apparent she clarified. "That Sansa and Harrold aren't married."

He could have ripped a castle down with his bare hands when he realized she had heard all of that. The thought of her hearing every word he said filled him with dread, but mostly anger at himself for being so stupid just like she always said he was. "You heard all that did you? Did anyone else?" She shook her head twice and he sighed and punched a post in anger. "Damn it all. Fine, you want the truth so badly I'll serve it. It's up to you to decide if you like the taste ... yes I was telling the truth."

Before she could reply to him the taller of the two guardsmen rounded the corner with axe and torch in hand. "You can't take the girls out of the brothel. Can't just go kidnapping girls like a Wildling just cause you have coin."

When he reached forward to seize him Arya wrapped her arms around Aegon's head and pulled him into a deep kiss. "He's with me, don't worry. I'm here because I want to be." She breathed out after releasing him. "I'll be back shortly, Barley."

"You new or something, girl? Don't recognize you." He trailed off as he blatantly stared down at her small chest. "Must be new to this trade if you're willing to go off alone. Give me a scream if you need help. Never beaten a man with grey hair before." Thankfully the man and his huge axe turned away and he left them alone in the darkness.

His shock over her actions still reeling and his mind was sent into a spiral. When he finally gathered his wits and tried to speak her foot stomped down on his and she pushed him into a snow pile. "Word of this ever gets out and I swear on the Old Gods and New that I'll geld you." She screamed as the Stark girl scrambled down an alleyway and out of sight.

"Bitch." The Targaryen seethed through his clenched teeth as he climbed out of the snow and felt the wet cold seeping through him. "You took my cloak!" He screamed out to no response as he trudged back towards the glowing Winterfell. "Tell anyone what ... that you kissed me, assaulted me, or that your sister is still married to the Imp." Aegon said scarcely above a whisper on the wind. "I should have just killed that cunt ... I would have made her happier. I wouldn't dishonor her, I would have been better than my father." Sansa's comely face was just the thing he did not need to see and yet it was all he could see when he closed his eyes. She was a Stark and he was no better than his father, yet it felt different, pure. He knew a spot was opening for him on the lowest circle of hell and Marwyn would have strangled him with his hands if he knew the truth. It was just something worse entirely that the thought of Arya Stark, even the thought of her and who she looked like was someone he could see his wife. Both of the Stark girls were a forbidden fruit he would never forget, he would not make the same mistakes of the past. Nothing good came from that union of Stark and Targaryen, only death and regret and sorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering Wyman Manderly was just playing his dumb and incompetent act in front of Aegon and it worked.
> 
> I answered a very old question I left unanswered in 35. Don't think anyone at the time questioned why Aegon didn't consider Tyrion in his debt but this was why.
> 
> Also last Aegon chapter for awhile.


	75. A Stone in King's Landing

Sansa:

 

"I must insist we wait on her in your chambers, M'lady." The second in command of her household guard said in a hush as he trailed behind her. "We don't know who may be watching or worse ... listening."

As Sansa turned down a servant's staircase she replied. "Let them, this will be nothing that needs to be held secret. Just two friends reuniting is all." Her voice was dripping with sweetness and as she passed by a rat faced man dressed in rags she deemed him with a smile and nod. "I understand you mean well, Ser Henry, but you are here to protect and advise me. It is not your duty or right to second guess me." She added when they reached the ground floor of the Red Keep.

The man's horror was plain on his face and with great humility he hung his head over. "I understand, Lady Arryn. I do apologize, it was not my intention to offend you." His response was satisfactory to her so long as he did not make the same mistake again. In truth she knew Henry Elesham was more the sort of man her husband would have preferred as Captain being nephew to the Lord of the Paps. Handsome and strong looking with curly red hair that flowed to his shoulders he was and he had more than enough honors earned in the Vale that set him apart from the ordinary men in the guard. To Sansa however her husband was wrong in his suggestion like he was in many other things, his heart was in the right place and that was the source of his mistake. While Henry had all the talent necessary he was afflicted by his greed and was raised to have too much pride.

It was as she stepped out into the ankle high snow that she spotted a short cut of coal black hair that topped the head of her guest who's head was pressed into the mane of a chestnut horse. A short knight dropped from his horse and tapped the girl on the shoulder to bring her attention to Sansa. "Lady Sansa." Mya greeted with a short dip at the waist. The Stone looked much of how Sansa remembered her. Still dressed in mannish clothes with the Arryn falcon only now it was halved with the broken wheel of Waynwood. Her hair seemed a whiff longer and her eyes a deeper blue against the pink flush the cold dealt to her face.

"Mya, it is good to see a friendly face." The Stark responded with a friendly hug to the Stone who stiffened up in response at the gesture. "I was shocked when I learned you were being sent by Lady Waynwood."

"Don't take offence, but I wouldn't be here if it was my choice. I know the mountains and hills of the Vale, the Riverlands and Crownlands are no kin to me. All that flatland made me feel so naked and exposed." Mya reached into her saddle bag and pulled from it a large satchel that was filled with many wax sealed letters. "I organized the more important ones on the top. The ones congratulating you on your blessing are more towards the bottom." The Stone's lips curled down into a small frown and she removed another letter from a second saddle bag and hesitantly handed it directly to Sansa. "I thought about dropping it into the God's Eye, but it seemed too presumptive to not let you know."

Sansa cautiously took the letter and observed the purple seal of the Royce's of the Gates of the Moon. "Myranda?" She question and Mya Stone nodded. "I would have liked to see her face when she heard who I truly was."

"You should have seen her when she learned you would still be the Lady of the Vale. Her face turned as white as bleached bones." The bastard girl chuckled and then began unsaddling her horse.

A man with a squared jaw stepped forward and made Sansa's breath catch in her stomach. The man however was gentle as he removed Mya's hands from the saddles and murmured. "Please let me do that, M'lady." Lothor Brune seemed greyer than when she had seen him last and his personal sigil was now quartered with the Waynwood wheel. "It is my job," He said in a even smaller voice when the Stone tried to take back over. "please," Was all that he needed to say for Mya to get the message.

She sighed loudly before turning with and following beside Sansa. "He's walking on needles in the Vale. I think he was more happy to leave than I was sad to go."

"With good reason, he was Petyr's man. I would be disappointed with my husband's bannermen if they forgave that easily." Mya seemed to agree with that and it provoked an odd feeling in her gut as they both returned to the warmth of the castle. She knew that in a different life and time Mya would have been granted every honor and kindness as the daughter of Robert Baratheon, but now she was ignored at best and at worst would be confused for an especially pretty serving girl. "You two seem to be more friendly."

"It's not what you're thinking." The blue-eyed girl argued. "I know what he wants, and I can see it in his eyes and from how he acts, but no." Mya stripped her fur stitched gloves off and stuffed them in the cuffs of her boots as they walked. It was plain for anyone to see that in the girl's head the former seat of her father was never as large or splendid in her mind. Sansa felt she must have looked the same the first time she saw the Red Keep in all its glory and the way the snow now clung to its red stones only increased its grandiose. "I don't think of him like that and ... just no."

"It's not my business, but don't think I will think any less of you if you ever do. You don't choose who you love, you can only love them and do your to guide them." The walk to her apartment had been much quicker without Henry's complaints and when she arrived she was pleased to see her mint tea had already been boiled. Before she made herself a cup the usual volunteer taste tester moved forward and downed a piping hot cup. After he did not drop dead to the ground Sansa poured herself a cup and offered one to Mya who turned it down in favor of a skin of wine. "I sometimes wondered what became of you after the Gates fell. Harry said he would ask around, but I don't think he ever found a chance before he was dragged north."

"I was held ransom for a few days after the battle until Lord Royce paid it." Mya did not seem to be happy about the turn of events and sensed the coming question before Sansa could ask it. "In return he made me promise I would leave Mychel alone."

Sansa recalled that it was Lord Royce's eldest daughter Ysilla who married Mychel. It seemed a fair trade, though not a kind one for the Bronze Lord to offer or an easy one for Mya to agree to. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, he was right. Mychel's married and has a girl of his own almost two moons old now. He's been left behind to tend to the Redfort's holdings until his father and brothers return." Mya took a deep drink of her wine and pushed the stopped back into place. "He tried to come to me before I left Ironoaks. Rode for two days and nights through the snow to see me." She sadly chuckled and in response Sansa reached across the table and held the Stone's cold clammy hands. "He tried to kiss me and tell me that his father would gift him a newly built seat on his return. Promised he would have a cottage built near by it for me to live in. Said that we could still be together and that he would always love me best."

"And what did you tell him?"

"To go back to his wife and forget everything we once had." Her deep blue eyes teared up for only a moment before she beat them away with the back of her sleeve and covered her dignity with a snicker. "If I kissed him and said yes do you think I would be here?"

Sansa squeezed her hand harder. "I suppose not. It took courage, courage I don't think I have. Most people don't and never will know anyone who does." The Stark then called out to her handmaiden who she knew was close by ease dropping. "Gretchel, bring Mya and myself two cups and a flagon of the finest wine you can find."

It was a handful of seconds later that the woman appeared with two pink crystal goblets in each hand. "Right away, M'ladies." The woman quickly moved to the doorway but before letting herself out she turned and asked. "Forgive me, M'lady Arryn, but a Ser Taryn wearing a golden cloak came calling while you were away."

"Did he say what he wanted?" Commander Taryn was the man she knew Gretchel had to be referring to.

The mud haired handmaiden shrugged her shoulders and bowed her head in shame. "He did not. I apologize M'lady, but he did mention he would try again today." What concern the man had with her was vexing. She had done nothing wrong and if one of her guards was in chains she would have been told of it by now. The only real person of official authority left in the city was Lady Nymeria Sand since Lord Tyrell had taken his troops and marched south done the rose road. The city had not fared well since his departure, she half wondered if he left five thousand behind just to cause trouble and stir up the dornish in hopes of making them retaliate.

Keeping Lady Margaery and her retinue away from the ever growing train of the Martell Princess was not an easy task, each wanted to be known as better and more gracious than the other and both wanted to appear more capable than the other. Every other night it seemed one of the queen hopefuls would hold some sort of ball or event in the queen's ballroom and her excuses for not attending were beginning to become obvious. For better or worse it seemed half of the court begun to go to her for solutions to their minor squabbles.

"She's the real queen of this city, she is. Sweet girl doesn't even know it." Haldon One-eyed had gossiped loud enough for her and everyone on her floor to hear during one of his night shifts. The thought of that was something quite distressing, but the thought of someone of importance hearing her guards speak so brazenly scared her to no ends. Harwin had promised her that he would make sure it never happened again and for all their sakes she hoped he would.

"Then I suppose I will have my answer later." Sansa murmured from behind the rim of her petite cup of tea. "Thank you, Gretchel."

Mya Stone pulled the skin from her side pouch and filled both of their goblets with a bubbly wine. "No trouble I hope?"

The Lady of the Vale shook her head and timidly tasted the red substance which was a vast contrast to the tea. "If there was I'm sure he would have waited all day on me." Even as she said it she was not sure herself. She knew it was possible he would have sought out Lady Nymeria after herself, or perhaps he had and she was only his second choice. The blood colored wine stung her throat as it went down and she spit out the remainder back into her cup. "It's a bit sour."

The bastard of Robert Baratheon chuckled under her breath and then downed her own cup with practiced ease. "Sorry," Mya Stone then reached over and finished the remnants of Sansa's cup and then handed it back to her. "You shouldn't be drinking in your condition. My wet nurse always claimed it was no good for a child in her mother's belly to be fed on wine."

"Maester Cleon assured me it is fine for the first three months."

"Do as you will, I did not mean to tell you what to do. I just don't think you should take the risk is all." Mya's eyes drifted to Sansa's stomach and she flashed a smile. "That little one will be the future Lord of the Vale."

"Or she could be a future Lady." The Stark replied back as she touched the small bulge growing under her thick dress. It was a unique feeling for her, one she always dreamed of and now that it was real it felt indescribable. It was her child that she was protecting and providing for, and it was her child that made it all worth it. Harrold would do as he liked and would disappoint, but her child would be perfect and nothing anyone did would change that. "She could be the Lady of the Vale or the Reach or even Dorne."

"Or even Queen." The words were like poison and Mya did not even know it. That was a cruel fate to sentence her blood to and she half wondered if that was what Harrold wished for the future. "You seem happier."

Sansa's eyes flicked back up from her belly to look at the black haired girl. "Compared to?"

"When you were in the Vale. You were never born to be a bastard, Sansa. This is what you were born to be ... the perfect Lady."

Her words struck a queer sensation in the Stark's tummy and she wondered if he child agreed. It wasn't what she wanted to be anymore, being perfect was nothing more than an illusion. People would whisper that Harrold was the perfect knight and husband and he was nothing further from the truth. The court would happily whisper that Aegon Targaryen was the perfect king and hero they had been waiting for and they were wrong on all accounts. All she wanted to be now was a good mother to her child. She wanted her child to grow just as she once did in the North, that was all. The tales her septa and mother had told her about a happy and grand life in the south could not have been further from what she found. Her perfect life ended the moment Robert Baratheon climbed down from his horse in Winterfell.

After the silence became deafening Mya cleared her throat and exclaimed. "I heard on the road from a group of men with spirals on their chests that the Iron Fleet has been spotted near Massey's Hook. Is there any truth to that?"

Sansa had overheard similar rumors from her serving girls and young Clement Wylde who was burning with excitement from the possibility of a battle after being left behind by his father and brothers. "Those who would know best tell me its impossible. It is a moon and half journey with good tides during the summer to make it from Oldtown to King's Landing. In winter it takes double that with the Gods' blessing on your side."

"Don't take me for a coward, but that is good news. I took part in one battle already and don't relish another anytime soon." Mya chortled.

The Stark shared in the laugh with her and added. "No more so than I. I've seen one battle and heard a second. I never wanted to see anything of that sort in my lifetime. When Stannis attacked King's Landing everyone was convinced we would all die and be burned alive to appease the Red God of Essos. They also told us that childrens' hearts would be torn from their chests and fed to his Red Priestess who would use their blood to birth monsters made of shadow and malice."

"I know I'll sleep safer at night when a true army returns to this city. On the ride up Aegon's Hill I was chided by some rag wearing men for my apparent greed. One told me my horse would be better served feeding the poor than ridden."

"The Sparrows." Sansa said in a whisper. They had become more and more abrasive and had been getting braver everyday. One day a group would break into the kitchens and acquiesce the larder on behalf of the High Septon and would whip anyone who tried to get in their way. Princess Arianne had urged for all loyal servants of the Dragon to band together and removed the man's head for his impudent conduct. Lady Margaery who had become much more religious and fervent in Sansa's time away from the capital urged forgiveness and assured that the High Septon was doing the right thing and that the poorer denizens of the city could use it more than they could.

King's Landing had grown to enormous proportions and now even the handouts of brought by the Braavosi were beginning to not be enough. Everyday more and more packed themselves behind the walls of the city and some who could not find room had already begun making their homes against the outside walls in defiance of the ordinance. Lady Nymeria had already started the process of recruiting more men to the Gold Cloaks and if not for the High Septon would have begun accepting women. "We should purge the city of everyone who breaks the new laws. We need to show the city unbending strength and that we will not tolerate trouble in this new age. Everyday I've sent criers into the city to explain the new laws." From what Sansa had heard the Sand had placed a crier or two on every corner of every street, except for flea bottom which was given double the number. "Every day more and more people are laughing at us and doing as they please. Those hovels they've built against the walls are one good blaze away from killing thousands." Lady Nym had argued to the crowd of deaf ears that lived in fear of the Sparrows wrath.

"Every attack on brothers and sisters of our flock is an attack on the Gods themselves."Sansa remembered his voice in her head as if he was in the room with them now. He scared her in a way that she could not explain. Normal men would steal glances at women which he did not, normal men could be greedy which he was not, normal men had pride big enough to fill a castle and he had none. He was the High Septon and the Gods were nothing less than paramount to him and yet he wanted so much more than to simply serve and preach their laws. She just didn't know what it was yet.

Mya played with her empty goblet for a time until Gretchel returned with two flagons of wine and tray of sweet cakes in the crux of her elbow. "I'm sorry for the delay. One of the bakers would not let me into the cellar until the head cook confirmed who I was. A sparrow tried to force his way in the day before you see."

"Its no trouble, I won't be drinking today. If you don't mind could you fetch me some honeyed milk?" Sansa asked the tired girl who without hesitation nodded her head and left the room again to follow her Lady's wishes.

The Stone wasted no time in filling her cup with a dark red. "Lady Waynwood told me not to tell you, but ..."

"But what?"

"You must keep it yourself." Sansa nodded quickly and Mya took another drink of her wine before finding the courage to continue. "She is not well. Her maester and her kin are convinced it is just an early winter fever. Lady Waynwood however is sure that this will be the last winter she sees. I would not tell you this unless I thought it important, but while she may be an ally to you her son is not. He does not like to be lied to and still holds you and Littlefinger's deception harshly. Worse still is his opinion of women, he thinks our only purpose in life is to breed and look pretty. He told me not long after I first made my home there that I would have no place at Ironoaks after Lady Waynwood's passing." She let loose a sad laugh and finished. "Outside of warming his bed that is, the brazen bastard even said so in front of his wife."

"So this is a warning?"

"Aye, and if I was you I would keep this from Harrold. Tell him, but don't tell him if you understand me. He's always been a hothead and executing the future head of house Waynwood will do nothing good."

Sansa would not steer him wrong and knew better than Mya that Harrold could be rash at the worst of times. He had no sense of timing and lived by the creed of now is better than tomorrow. "Thank you, and don't fret over his words. I hope for you to return to your old position when the snows rescind. Until then you can stay in my household, you can have whatever position you want. You are my friend and I won't stand for you to suffer."

"Thank you, but I can't take advantage-"

"It's not taking advantage, think of it as doing me a favor. I don't have many people here that I can trust and I need a friend." Sansa rubbed her tummy and smiled kindly at her friend to assure her. "We both need you here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was alerted by a reader on FF.net that they found my story off the Song of Ice and Fire tv trope page. So here's a shout out and thank you to Nerdman 3000 for giving me the rub on that site, it was very kind.
> 
> Birthday week so don't think you'll get another chapter for at least two more weeks and it will be up North again.


	76. Dragonstone

Aurane:

 

It was dark, too dark. He hated darkness and all that it could hide. It was nicer than he expected it would be, though in fairness he always expected the worst of everything just like his mum taught him. It only served that Dragonstone's dungeon would be nicer than Driftmark's, it was the island the Targaryens took as their own seat. The Targaryens had built warmer and even wider cells for those they preferred not to have roaming free. The sliver of beeswax left to share the cell was no bigger than his finger , but it been a kinder curtsy than he expected to receive. Though it too had burned out some long time ago and taken its meager warmth with it into the dark.

If he would have had his way they could have kept their damn candle and just loosened his shackles. Now those were rough old things with jagged edges which poked into him when he tried to move. Not since he was locked in his damned cell had he seen or heard another soul. He would not complain as it served his goal just fine. He had cut through a third of his chain already by banging it off jagged stone he guessed had fallen from the wall and with a few more days he thought he would be free from that torment.

Now he was tired and his paramount wish now was food or drink and anything in between. His arms were on fire from the effort of his escape in a way they had not been since his father had first brought him on the deck of his ship the 'Indefatigable'. Manning the oars of a double decked dromond were no easy task even with forty men behind leading it. His father had given him a true lesson that day when he first ordered him to try his hand at the oars.

Aethon Velaryon was his father's name he had always been a daring general and grand admiral capable of engaging a kraken in three day battle. He had sailed all four corners of the world in two years too. That was always what he saw in his mind when he was a just a wee child and when his mother had told him stories of the man. He was a capable admiral, Aurane never saw him sail anything particularly dangerous and have never heard of any grand victory he had lead, but stories always make molehills into mountains.

The Velaryon Lord with all the strength he could muster climbed back to his feet. Placing his hands on the walls and using them as a guide he decided that it was almost of the same design as the one he once was confined to in Driftmark. His their cell had not been his own then. It was in those dungeons he shared company with a dozen other men and still the room was half the size. He had been going on his tenth year when his milk brother had planted the idea in his head of robbing a spiceship. They were all so poor in those days and the gruel his mother was able to provide for him as a tavern wench were not enough for him. He was born with the seed of Valyria just like the Dragonlords of old and as such his palate needed so much more than oats and boiled water. He needed more than a single roomed hovel with nothing more than a pile of itchy feed to sleep on. He needed so much more and he decided he would have it.

It was a simple job in theory, each man was armed with either a dagger or wood chopping axe, he himself preferred a dagger for speed. They would use the cover of darkness to swim under the tides and latch onto the underbelly of the 'Queen Naerys' until it was out of sight from the island and then they would climb to its deck and the ship would be theirs. Sadly it had not been so easy as they had been discovered from moment they touched the cursed ship by a cabin boy trying to sleep in the crow's nest. After vaulting onto the surface they were met by half the crew all holding their spears at the ready. Terrence Waters the bloody idiot still thought they had a chance at wealth that day and tried to fight them. Got a spear through the throat and tossed overboard as chum for the fishes in return for his troubles and bravery.

They spent the next three days in the bowels of the castle until Lord Velaryon appeared with torch in hand demanding that Aurane be released. His sweet mother had noticed his disappearance and connected him with the attempted capture of the spiceship. She had gone on hands and knees to Driftmark begging for his father to release him and through some miracle his father had remembered her face and the night they had once spent together. When his father pulled him from the dungeon and saw his face the truth of his mother's words were plain to see either way. "You have courage, I'll give you that. Took much initiative to attempt what you and your little band of miscreants did. I respect that, I respect that." His father had rattled on and on as they climbed the seemingly endless steps back into the light of the world. "Come to me one day if you ever want to make something of yourself. My boys could learn something from you, my son." Was what he had said before returning Aurane's meager belongings to him.

Aurane remembered it being nearly a week later when had seen his friends hanging at the gallows for the crimes he shared in with them. It was a few days after the realization of how the world's laws bent and changed for those with a fancy lineage that he told his mother of what his father had offered him. She had begged him profusely and cried endlessly for him not to go. Pleaded that it would kill her if he left and that he would suffer nothing but spite and hatred in that castle. He needed more than what that life in the village could offer and knew that working on the dock unloading ships for pennies and going to bed sick from hunger or poor food was no life for him. On his eleventh name day he left for home and was greeted into the Velaryon household. His mother; the only one who had given two shits about him had drunk herself to death three weeks later in her grief.

The Lady Velaryon was a kind woman and seemed happy to have another boy running through the halls of the castle as she had been made incapable of children after a severe miscarriage. Monford his older and trueborn brother was a cunt and one Aurane happily showed up in everything outside of writing. He could swim faster, run harder, fight fiercer, and sing better than the supposed trueborn son. It was not long after making his place in the castle that his father's council had doted on him with gifts and praises in secret. Half of the council thought his father might simply disinherit Monford in place of Aurane.

That never came to pass when it should have and it was Monford who was giving the pretty highborn wife and it was his trueborn brother who was given the castle. All Aurane got was a ship and a crew to find his own fortune. He would never be welcome in Driftmark, his home, the castle he was destined to call his own. It was his father's fault that he had to seek out alternate means to get what should have been his. He was the true heir of the house in every way, he was the seahorse made human and he remembered who their true kings were. Beasts of the sea did not bow to creatures of the land and the seahorse had but one king in it's heart. Their house words were simple, they were the old, the true, and the brave. His brother had fulfilled the old part quite well and aged spectacularly for a man in his prime and died just as well too. The last two words belonged solely to Aurane and he lived by them. The moment he saw his father so eagerly bow to Robert Baratheon and cater to Stannis' every whim he knew that the future of his house was doomed if he did not intervene.

"I think he's in this cell." Said a distant voice in Myrish Valyrian from somewhere outside of his cell. When silence returned his world he wondered if it was actually real or just a dream.

It was so stupid of him, he was so much better than that and he had to be. He was abed with a serving wench who had hair the color of a setting sun when the drums of war began their beat. The Velaryon had never scrambled so fast into a set of clothes then at the moment. When he slipped into his pants it was his shame that he soiled them in fear of the noise that had torn the sky asunder. He did not know what brand of madness had taken hold of him and led him to the window of his chambers. The sight of the black demon, the eater of the world, Balerion the Black Dread reborn had masked the sky with his enormous body and shaded the entirety of the ancient castle in his shadow. The second roar had destroyed all hopes of turning the tide or combating the beast and the endless fleet of ships that trailed behind it.

The climb down the stairs of Dragonstone and out of the ancient castle had been the coldest of his life. When he saw the green shadow roosting on the highest tower of Dragonstone filling the sky with pillars of yellow and green flames he knew hell would contain nothing more fearsome for him. The horses were all too scared to move and most of his men were in futile trying to prepare the defenses. Those brave souls were the few that reported for duty and not hiding under their beds like scared children. He had walked towards the harbor by his lonesome and passed by hundreds of scared peasants all running towards the castle for safety. When the ivory colored dragon circled his grand fleet of docked ships he could only drop to his knees. When the golden flames leap from its maws all the Velaryon could do is weep for his work while his ships were reduced to burning piles of sinking ash.

It was there he stayed until the longships of Ironborn docked on the beaches and it was there he stayed until the blasted pirates flying the three headed dragon poured from the deck and circled around him. He was sure they were going to kill him and after the first man smashed him across the face with the flat of his axe, Aurane was sure they would torture him first. When they tied his hands over his head and dragged him across the ground he thought they might offer him up as a sacrifice to their Drowned God. Before he regained his bearings another man with white hair had stepped on his face and knocked him unconscious. When he had woken next it had been in the darkness of this cell.

The cell door then swung open and light like that of the holy Seven themselves seeped into the room. Three men all bearing torches let themselves into the cell. The first man had skin the color of mud and eyes like almonds with a short crop of snow white hair splattered across his head. The second man was much paler and better looking though he was darker than Aurane himself. The third had a golden kraken on his surcoat and the Velaryon guessed he was the gaoler as on his belt he had dozens of keys all different sizes and shapes. "Well hello good gents. I would offer you some form of hospitality, but I fear my circumstances are rather limited." The light of the torches allowed him to study the cell better and he spotted a group of large larva nesting on an errant brick. "Though if you don't mind helping yourself those wriggling things look meaty."

The gaoler moved surprisingly fast and his foot caught Aurane under the chin and the his head snapped back and banged off the wall with a loud thud that rattled his teeth. "If you have to kick him don't aim for the head. Our Queen wishes to have words with him and reducing his mind to that of dribbling fool is not needed." The man with blond hair exclaimed in a Dornish dialect.

"Good man, I do find myself needing a gallant hero." Aurane managed to spit out in a half hearted laugh as the Ironborn gaoler pulled his foot back for another mighty kick.

The brown skinned man pushed the attacker out of his way before the strike landed and pulled him to his feet. "Are you Aurane Velaryon?"

"Aye and it's Lord Aurane Velaryon the Lord of the Waters and Master-"

The Dornish fellow patted him on the back and ushered him out of the cell and into a dank and moist hallway with water pooling below their feet. "That will be enough, share what japes you have in that mind for our Queen. She's the one you want to impress, not us."

It pleased him in some strange way that much of the castle looked the same as they climbed the stairs to painted table. He half expected the castle to be a smoking ruin either still burning or looted and yet it was all the same, even the banners. At the door to the chamber of the painted table was a legion of pointy headed eunuchs Aurane knew to be Unsullied. When the doors opened he spotted a tiny girl with eyes like gold and knew her as being a Naathi. She looked quite alike a former slave he had bedded from those islands in Pentos when he was a younger man with still lily weak sea legs. The visage seated on Aegon the Conqueror's high seat above the painted table however took his eyes and never let them go. She was short, that was obvious and her silver hair reminded him of his own greatly, though her look were more alike Aegon's than his own easily. If there was ever a more beautiful woman in the world he had not seen her. The woman seated above him was perfect in every way with big purple eyes and a slender body with teats hidden under a silk dress that had to be crafted after the Maiden's own.

"Get him something to clean himself with." She said simply to her Naathi companion who retrieved a silver bowl of water and placed it before him.

One of the men behind him pushed him to his knees and ordered him to clean himself. "My Silver Queen," He breathed out with all the kindness and humility he could produce. "may these chains be loosened. You have nothing to fear from me." She made no word or motion to indulge his request so he shook the chains and showed his limited motion. "I fear I cannot wash myself with these on."

"Remove his chains." She said and without another moment passing the gaoler did as she wished and removed his chains entirely. Aurane looked down at the reflection he cast on the water's surface and saw a face that looked like his. The man that looked back up at him was swollen and had blots of purple in several places. His nose was crooked in a way he did not remember and his right eye was outlined in black. Before he could dip his hands into the water the open cuts on his wrists dripped forth his lifeblood and sullied the brilliance of the liquid mirror. "Moqorro, please see to his wounds."

A man as black as sin walked forward and looked to be something from a nightmare from where the Velaryon kneeled. Splattered across his face were dozens of bright red tattoos resembling an inferno and in one hand was an emerald staff modeled after a dragon with trick fire burning green as grass in its mouth. He almost feared it wildfire when the man kneeled low next to him and it's green sparks kissed his skin, but he knew the staff would be no more and Aurane himself would be an arm short if it was. "Thank you, this is very kind. Truth be told, good Queen, I would not have expected such kindness from one who keeps a company as yours."

"Why do you say that?"

Aurane made a point to look down at the fire priest attending to his arms and then to a group of axe wielding Ironborn. "A fleet of Ironborn with Unsullied slaves is not the sight many want to ever see in their lives. Not to mention the dragons."

"My children do have that effect. My people are nothing to fear if you are a friend, but my enemies should tremble." Her eyes flickered down to a man Aurane had never been so happy to see in his life. "Which are you?"

"I have the blood of the dragon running through my veins as well, my Good Queen. I am also blood of the dragon. A different branch it's true, but one that shares much blood with your own. My name is Aurane Velaryon, and I serve your nephew as his master of ships-"

"My nephew is it? Is that why the banner of my house was already flying over the island? When I saw it in the distance I mistakenly thought they meant to surrender." The Silver Queen said with a frown.

Aurane nodded his head and slipped his hands from the Red Priest who had stifled the bleeding. "Both, I gave no orders to give you battle. I knew it would be futile to fight against dragons. Me and mine both surrendered and are on the same side with you. Your nephew meant to send me to Slaver's Bay to find you. He has nearly succeeded in taking back all of the Seven Kingdoms for the glory of house Targaryen. The great houses Tyrell, Lannister, Arryn, Tully, Baratheon, and Martell all swear allegiance to him. As we speak he is giving battle to the godless Starks of the North and in short order will bring the direwolf back to heel."

"My nephew's head was dashed against a wall by the Usurper's dogs. Would you tell me that he lived?"

"I would, as the babe that died that day was not your nephew or my King. He was switched with another and ferried away to safety for the time when he was grown and of able body to take his vengeance." Aurane exclaimed as he cleaned the muck and dirt from his face with the bloody water.

Queen Daenerys did not look convinced in the least and her flawless face was marred with a deep scowl. "Vengeance? You said the Tullys, Arryns, Lannisters and Baratheons have all sworn allegiance to him. That does not sound like vengeance to me. The Usurper dogs deserve no mercy and the son of my brother is no dragon if what you've told me is correct. I won't be fooled by this mummer claiming to be a dragon. I'll give you another chance to tell me the truth. I know your family to be a loyal ally to mine since the age of Aegon the Conqueror, so do not disappoint me."

One Targaryen would already be more than crossed with him at the loss of the fleet and he saw no way out of this situation. "I do not lie, let every man and woman here present know the truth. There is only one monarch in the Seven Kingdoms and he is Aegon Targaryen the Sixth and blessed be his name." True to his father's words and all those that advised him he would not shudder before any human. "Your nephew is still unmarried, Queen Daenerys. If you are driven by your desire of Westeros I urge you to hold here and send an emissary to King's Landing. Most of his council still rules there and they will have the best chance at getting word to him now that my fleet is burned and sunk. Before you arrived I was to settle things here and meet him at White Harbor. So if you cannot wait, send me and whoever you trust to meet him directly."

"I do not need to be advised by you, my Good Lord. I have plenty of wise men and women for that."

Aurane mustering all of his strength pushed himself off his knees and sneered at those who drew their weapons at him. "And none of them from Westeros. I do not mean to offend or degrade all you have accomplished which is much, but Slaver's Bay and Essos are not anything like the Seven Kingdoms. Were they are swayed by money and cowed by fear, us from Westeros are weaned on feuds and anger and are fueled by petty insults. We do not scare easily and are not pointy headed eunuchs with nothing hanging between our legs. Even Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters learned that in the end."

"In the end they all bowed before the Dragons, or do you mean to tell me things are different this time?" The Silver Queen asked with a hint of fire hidden behind her comely face.

 _Things are different this time, the majesty of the Dragons are gone._ He would answer how he was led to believe and only hoped it did not cost him his head. "Westeros had never seen Dragons before. Those living now may not have either, but words written by wise men of that time still remain. What's more is now we all know Dragons are not unbeatable, the Dornish taught us all that. I urge you on behalf of all the people of Westeros to take your people back to Slaver's Bay and leave Westeros to Aegon. It is in goods hands and you will always be welcome here."

"I cannot do that-"

"Then return your people to Slaver's Bay and establish some form of power structure for them. But they will not be welcome here, you bring foreign religions, cultures, and people into a land of tired and angry people. I know you have never seen it before but winter is here and there is no place for them. Winter will be hard enough and we do not need more mouths to feed."

Aurane felt his heart drop into his stomach as she stood up from her chair. "She does have one from the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Velaryon." Said an ugly bear of a man with a demon branded on his cheek. "My name is Jorah Mormont of Bear Island."

"And that's very good for you, I'm sure your kin are all very proud of you." Aurane gave the man one last looking over and guessed he had seen better days once. "I know you quite well, Harry Strickland. We shared a half dozen cups together in Pentos once to celebrate Illyrio Mopatis' name day." That was a fine day, one of many delicious wines and foods.

The slight man took one step closer and nodded in Aurane's direction. "You've seen better days, Aurane."

"I hope to see more regardless of how I look." The Lord of the Waters shot back. "The Golden Company fighting to put a Targaryen on the throne? Is that golden skull of Aegor Rivers spinning away? What did she give you to secure your allegiance?" He said already knowing the answer quite well.

"Return him to a cell. One more suited to his position, I will think on what you have said, Lord Velaryon. Strong Belwas please find him someplace suitable and keep him under watch until someone relieves you." The Queen promised as some shirtless man with a big scarred belly jerked him around like a tiny child. His breath was beyond rancid and his teeth yellow like kernels of corn.

Whether he wished to go or not was not a choice given to him. With no help of his own the fat man dragged him out of the chamber and three long hallways later he was thrust into a windowless room with a clean looking bed and a burning hearth. "Be a good lord and don't fret. Strong Belwas does not want to hurt you unless you make him."

Aurane thrust himself before the fire and warmed his hands with the warmth it emanated. His cell was cold and the feeling of being warm was something he had almost forgotten. "What did you just say?" He asked as his mind took in what the fat and ugly man had said.

"Don't anger or fight against Strong Belwas or he will hurt you." The brown skinned foreigner repeated with some anger.

The Velaryon licked the sweat from his lips in confusion and turned to face his jailer. "Excuse my confusion, I was down in that darkness for a long time ... but aren't you Strong Belwas?"

"Who did you think I was?" He placed his huge hands on his round belly and chuckled. "I'm Strong Belwas and Strong Belwas is me."

His exasperation could not be contained and he said back. "Then why did you say it like it was someone else?" Strong Belwas did not seem to understand what Aurane was getting at so he added. "Never mind, like I said I was down there for a long time. If it's no trouble could you find me something new to wear."

The dark skinned man hesitated for a moment but nodded his head. "Belwas will see what he can find." Before he left Aurane alone in the room he poked his head out of the door and called something out in a language Aurane faintly recognized. On his call two Unsullied stood outside his door with their spears armed at the doorway.

He had to laugh at the thought they had of him trying to escape. Where would he go even if he tried? He was trapped on an island miles away from any visible land in winter. His fleet was scuttled and his men were in chains, he would have been dumb as stump to make any escape attempt with dragons lurking somewhere in the sky. Before Belwas returned the Velaryon stripped himself of his soiled clothes and lightly rubbed the rash between his legs from using his britches as a latrine. "Is this the payment I've sowed?" He asked the gods in some vain attempt to make sense of where he sat now. Could his fortunes have turned so quickly? He was at the newest height of power he had ever known, titles, land, fleets, armies, lords wanting him to marry their daughters. Now all he had to show for it was a piss and shit rash between his legs and a battered face. His lucky coins were probably resting at the bottom of some Ironborn reavers warchest and he shuddered to think of his tricorn. Tyanna his bedwarmer had suffered a fate he did not want to think about. Even his own ship the 'Wave Tamer' and the King's 'Maelstrom' were ash.

Instead of Belwas a huge man nearly a head taller than Aurane stepped into the room with a simple white tunic, a pair of stockings, and wool trousers. "These should work just fine, Lord Velaryon." He had darker skin much like the blond Dornishman though he seemed more personable from where the Velaryon now sat. "If you have any other affliction you need taken care of just say the word and Moqorro will see to them. For someone not a maester he has some impressive skills."

"I could do with some wine." Aurane exclaimed as he pulled the pants on and endured the pain it produced on his thighs. "And your name to put us on more equal terms if you don't mind."

The bald headed man smirked at his words. "Ser Archibald Yronwood." He reached down and pulled a dirty flask from his belt and threw it to Aurane. "That should hold you off for now. Try not to get to drunk, Queen Daenerys may call on you again this day."

"I'll try not to." The former Waters said as he put his head back and swallowed down a mouthful of the sweet substance. "Thank you for the clothes and wine. I assume you are friends with Prince Quentyn Martell. If you are I would like to give a message to him. I think he would like to know that his father and sister have already pledged themselves to King Aegon's side."

"I wish I could." Was all the big Dornishman said before leaving the room with a slam of the door.

Aurane took another swig of the wine and slammed the stopper back in it. "Fuck me, can any of you bloody men do anything without her telling you so! How tight does she have that leash around your necks!" He screamed to no one in particular, but it did feel good to speak again and be in someplace that looked habitable by man.  _I've doomed us all and the Gods did nothing, but help me muck this up._ He wanted to scream and punch a hole in the castle's black stone wall in disgust. He knew in his heart if it was not for the damn winter fog that rested on the water he would have spotted and defeated the Ironborn. It was the mists fault that he had failed and it was the fog that masked his enemies from him which was no fault that could be laid at his feet. All of his warships were armed with long armed onagers and two rowed ballistas. They would have been enough to fell a Dragon. The Dornish had done it with scorpion and his men were worth triple whatever army Meraxes and its rider had fallen to.

It did not matter now though. He had nothing now ... nothing but the long fabled treasure of Dragonstone. That he would never let slip through his fingers into the hands of the enemy. It was out of the reach of anyone for now, which meant it was out of Aegon's reach. If it was out of Aegon's reach than Aurane knew the Wall would fall. Whatever it cost him be it his life or the life of ten thousand he would give it to the Stranger gladly to make the Silver Queen believe him. All he needed to do was to convince her of the impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broke my promise, so sue me. My only defense is that I got a bad case of inspiration and wrote most of this on a pad of paper before transferring it onto my computer.
> 
> If you're wondering Dragonstone has no dragon eggs in it.
> 
> This Aurane chapter is also just a one-shot. He will not be a featured pov in the future. Everything just flowed better from his side.


	77. Lost Time

Jon:

 

At times he could not believe how much Arya had grown since he saw her last. Gone was the skinny girl of old with scabbed knees and elbows always begging to go train with Robb and himself. The girl he saw today was one less soft, she held a cold anger about her that replaced the enthusiasm she once possessed for making friends and exploring the mysteries of the world. It pained him that he'd not been there to spare her of the horrors she saw in the south.

Rickon was a different sort entirely. He was once little more than a babe clutching at his mother's legs. Now he was older, wiser, and much braver. Black Donnel claimed that Rickon was able strike the eye out of a bird from thirty paces away with no more than a frail stick bow. Still if he was to be Lord of the North one day he had much growing to do and even more to learn. He seemed to worship the Targaryen King and echo his steps and behavior.

King Aegon Targaryen had been a persistent man and hounded him day and night with requests and reports of the forces Jon himself would command. Lord Bronze Royce gave Jon multiple tips and drilling ideas for his men which he was thankful for. The Mountain Clansmen knew what they needed to do and they did not scoff at the danger that was coming. The Free Folk were harder to get together and he knew it would be almost pointless to try. They would need to placed on the Wall in areas that were lacking. The many rivalries amongst the Free Folk clans still lived even now and he laid awake many nights in deep reflection of how Mance Raider could have gotten them to cooperate.

The Red Priestess Melisandre did not stop her preaching or let up even once in the days since he rose from the dead. Every night she invited him to her nightly prayers with her faithful followers of old and new followers made up from both the Southrons, Northmen and Free Folk alike. He turned her down every time, but it did not matter in the end as the winds at night would betray him and carry her chants to him all the same. They wanted him to be their savior and deliver them from the darkness. It was his destiny if she was to be believed, yet he did not know how he could.

Arya did not place much stock in the worship lavished upon him and for that he was thankful. He did not want to be their king or their object of prayer. That was never what he wanted. "Indulge her and see what she can show you. There is no harm in putting her magic to the test." His little sister had exclaimed one night as she watched their prayers from an open window. He remained unsure if he wanted to see what she would show him.

"Give her what she wants. The more you ignore her and those she preaches to the worse things will get." The silver haired King advised Jon in hushed whispers before he departed for Castle Cerwyn.

Black Donnel in turn said much of the same. "Anything to shut her damn mouth. What harm will it cause to just watch that spectacle?"

A gulp of honeyed wine helped ease his mind if only a bit. "How much longer can we wait?" He asked the clear night sky that peaked in from his window. Aegon Targaryen promised more men, more weapons, more food, more ships and more everything would arrive by way of Old Harbor if they just waited longer. He said that three times and three times he was wrong. Not one ship docked in the White Harbor bearing the Targaryen flag. They could not afford to wait any longer and with reluctance the Targaryen King had to agree.

Jon sent a lone rider to tell the Night's Watch of their expected arrival. It would be a sight he always wanted to see since he was a little boy. The Wall fully manned by knights in painted armor. Beside them would be the strong and honorable Northmen. Only now even Free Folk would be in the defense of the living. He instructed the messenger to return after reaching the Wall and bring back word of the new Lord Commander.

A howl then broke his torpor and turning back to his bed he saw Ghost lift his head once before slumping it back down to sleep. Jon wagered it was Nymeria or Shaggydog and perhaps even both were out there trying to call their brother to join them. It was apparent to him that they each held the power to change skins. Their days were spent amongst each other and in the nights they hunted and played together in their second skins. Only they would have if Arya got her way. Jon himself was sleepless with far too much on his mind and too many decisions to make.  _Choosing always has to hurt._

He never wanted to leave his family again. He always wanted to be there for them. Jon wanted to teach Rickon how to wield a sword and how to be a man like Lord Eddard. He wanted to heal Arya's wounds and wanted to see her finally find some happiness in the world again. And yet he knew there was no time. The darkness was here and the warmth and happiness of the summer was now long gone. Only the winter remained and the world would brace for it or be destroyed by it.

Jon did not know what force willed him from his seat before the hearth and out of his bedchamber. He felt like a different person as he climbed down the long and winding staircase of Winterfell. The cold, but comfortable breeze of the night helped him remember just where he was being pulled to. The grand pyre that burned brightly outside of Winterfell's walls was an easy guide for him to follow. Five men were placed before the gates and each hailed him as he passed by and offered to accompany him. He turned them down as he needed no protection that night.

The beautiful Priestess of R'hllor could be seen even from a far distance away. She was dressed in a thin robe of red that did little to hide her shapely body or protect her from the climate. Not that it seemed she had need of warmth or even food to live. He'd never seen her so much as sneeze or cough in his presence. Her flock seemed to swell even from what he saw yesterday. On a distant hill he could see them all join hands and sing to the roaring flames. Before he made to join them a distant voice called out. "Her words are venom."

Jon looked over at the rapidly aging knight who said his own fears better than he himself could. "Ser Davos. What brings you out here so late?"

His brown hair had gone fully grey and his face's lines sunk much deeper than Jon remembered them being. "To stop you from doing something wrong. To give you a hard truth that you will hate me for."

"What hard truth is that?"

"She will be the death of you. Not just you either, that price would be easy. Her price is the blood of your family and loved ones. Don't fall for the same illusions King Stannis once did, she brought him nothing but suffering." His brown eyes looked lost at that moment and stayed that way until his face rose to the night sky. "I lost five sons to this war. I lost five sons doing my duty and following my king." It was only when his face bathed in the moonlight that Jon realized he was crying. "Mother forgive me. I don't know how she rose you from the dead or why it was you and not Stannis. I've never been a godly man in my entire life. I've seen her do things that would make most men believe in her god. It's pure evil and nothing good will come from it. I've given enough to this war, more than anyone else. When the Targaryen King returns I will throw myself at his feet and give myself over to any justice he finds fitting if it spares my sons their elder brothers' fate."

Before Jon could respond to the sad knight he turned and walked away from him towards Winterfell. "Thank you, Ser Davos." He was sure his words fell on deaf ears. It did not matter if he heard him or not. Ser Davos Seaworth was a loyal and honorable man when he had no reason to be. Jon did not know what weight he owned with his brother. The Targaryen King was a riddle pretending to be a human. Half of his men seemed scared of him and walked barefooted on a bed of nails around him. Some days he was pleasant and kind in a reserved fashion. More often than not he was unsociable and melancholy. At times Jon wondered if that was what his father was like when he was still alive. Men vocally compared both Aegon and Rhaegar together quite favorably so much that it seemed likely to him.

His walk to the Godswood was slow and contemplative. It seemed the further he got from Melisandre's singing the louder it got and the harder each next step was. The snows fell sometime after the night took hold, but it felt good to feel it crunch beneath his boots. Anything to distract him from her was pleasant. If he was not so familiar with the Godswood he would have feared getting lost for all light was killed in the depths of the ancient wood. The heart tree's gloomy face welcomed him to its black pool when he saw it and it offered him its strong trunk to rest on.

He thought himself crazy or the ancient woods haunted after a pattern of tiny breathing reached his ears. Jon climbed several branches of the weirwood before he saw little Rickon sleep precariously on a branch half as thick as his body. "What are you doing out here? Up here." Jon said quietly so as to not startle the youngest Stark. "Wake up, Rickon, you'll freeze in this cold."

"I won't. I slept outside on Skagos." The youngest of Lord Stark and Lady Stark's children did not open his eyes and Jon was sure if he not even know who he was talking to. "Softer up here. Dry," A loud snort echoed through the sacred wood. "leave me alone, Arya."

Jon did not want to disturb him. But he would not let him stay there and hurt himself. The young boy fought meekly before allowing Jon to take him in his arms and climb down from the tree. Jon untied his bear cloak from his shoulders and spread it out on a dry spot near the weirwood. After he placed the youngest Stark on it and the young boy snuggled in immediately. He felt he would live to regret it later when the night got colder, but he would live without the warmth of it for now. He had things to atone for and did not deserve any sort of comfort right now.

"I miss you," The bastard Stark murmured to the cutting wind. "each of you." If Robb was here he would know what to do. Robb was the one trained to be lord. He would have all the right answers demanded of him from the southron. His father would have been a welcome sight anytime, but now most of all he was needed. If only prayers and wishes would give him one last chance to speak to Lord Eddard Stark. If the only father he ever knew would talk to him one last time he would be content for the rest of his days. At times he wondered if Samwell was safe and happy in the south. Jon liked to think so. Sam surrounded by books, good smells, and even better food in a warm place. That was kinder fate for Sam then here in the frozen North.

Bran was one person he could not bare to think of now. In his heart he could only see and remember his childlike wonderment and the way he climbed up every high place he could find. His head told him that the child was dead and gone like most people believed. Rickon would not be swayed regardless of who told him that Bran was gone. "He's still alive. He talks to me sometimes!" Their brother had claimed with tears welling in his eyes.

Arya was sure that their little brother would face the truth one day. She mourned for Bran as she did for Robb and nothing Rickon said dissuaded her true thoughts. Jon wanted to believe him, he truly did. Theon did not kill either boy in the end. They were both too smart for him. Even if Bran somehow made it through the Wall with the Reeds there was little chance they still lived today. It would have been certain death for them three years ago when only the Free Folk inhabited those lands. A crippled boy, two crannogmen and an imbecile against the winter that would never end. Bran's direwolf would protect them to its death as the litter all did. A direwolf though was nothing other than prey for the army of the dead that the Others commanded.

Val would have been the first to volunteer to go look for Bran. She had no fear and knew those lands better than anyone. He wished he was as brave as she was. "Give me a sign. Any sign." The white face of the weirwood gave him none of the answers he begged for. He repeated himself many more times for so long that he dropped to his knees and sunk through the humus that lived under the snow. "Anything, I'm so lost." Silence was the only answer given. It was the only answer the Old Gods gave anyone. Even now in the bitterness of winter the red sap still flowed freely from the weirwoods open mouth and sorrowful eyes. When he was just a child Theon dared him to taste the red sap. Robb and him never had the courage to try it. The red substance was sticky and warm despite the cold around him and it shone like a ruby when he held it up to the moonlight.

"Is this what you offer me?" It seemed such a paltry and insignificant thing. He protected the Old Gods against the fires of R'hllor. Jon came back to life by the grace of Lord of Light and his priestess. All his life he followed and prayed solely to the Old Gods. What had they offered him in return for his faithfulness? They did not save his father from the headsman. They did not saved his brother from betrayal. Val worshiped them and trusted in their teachings and customs her entire life and what did they do for her? What did they offer to anyone in need? A second life inside of a friend's body? A chance to steal a loyal companion's life from them?

"If this is all you offer ... then I accept." He pulled his glove from his burned hand and stopped to stare at the scars that marred his skin. It was fire that stopped the thralls of the Others. It was not the weirwoods or Old Gods, he thought. Jon did not know why it took him so long to realize that Melisandre was right. There was a Lord of the Light and his eternal enemy was the Great Other. Melisandre led her flock to pray for the coming of the dawn and was that not what every man and woman desired? If not then it was at the least his desire.

It was the oath the crannogmen always spoke of and swore on. "By earth and water, by bronze and iron, I swear by ice and fire." He scooped a dollop of red sap on the end of his finger. "Ghost, to me." Jon called and without hesitation his ever faithful companion appeared at his side in silence. "I've been so foolish. Thank you for your gift." The direwolf had been his gift. They were gifts to all the Stark children and even one was given to him. Ghost would never betray him. He would never tire and he would never leave Jon's side until the very bitter end. The first taste of the sap was like poison. The second tasted like milk long gone foul. It had clung to his tongue regardless of how he tried to swallow it and would not let go. It forced him to taste more and more of its endless flavors. He thought they would never stop changing in his mouth. Thankfully after an eternity they did cease. All he tasted in the end was his wife's kisses and too quickly too did that disappear. He was exhausted and it took more out of him than a week long ride on horse.

"Good night, Rickon." Jon sighed as he laid his head on Ghost's pale white body. It was easy to slumber into the darkness that night, even frightfully so. His dreams started as they always did, with Val. She was just as she was in life. Only now the signs of their child were gone from her body and he was not quite himself. They were married in front of a heart tree with only a few friends as witness in life.

Yet in his dream a massive roof was built over their heads and spheres of endless colors illuminated the world around them. Slowly the darkness rescinded further and further revealing thousands of different faces until the light hit a cavernous wall built of white marble. Above him shepherded a massive creature resembling a man with blood red skin that crackled and smoked. Sprouting from its brow were shining horns of cruel and deadly steel that touched the clouds. Next to the monster was a tall and dark shade with hands like that of swords and it was the shadow that shaped the monster to its will as the world chose to see it.

On the far side of the earthen field of fire and death came a massive wave of onyx colored blood that washed away his wedding guests. To his horror the endless tide ate friend and foe alike before his eyes. He tried to reach for Longclaw, but at his side was a blade made of the sun's essence. So blindingly bright and hot was it that it burned away his clothes and left him bare for all the world to see his great shame. With that blade he knew he would quash the darkness that consumed his world. Jon knew he would have done all he wanted to and more if not for the divine figure. White as polished ivory was the woman who extended a delicate hand to him and took him under her safety.

It was together that they watched the tide wash away all the pain and scars from the world. In time even the monster and his shade were washed away, and yet Jon was sad. Above them all not even the onyx tide could reach the heavens and claim the one that loomed over them. The roof tore away and with gentleness fit for a newborn babe Jon was flown higher above the world. From the clouds he saw all of Westeros. The Wall in its glistening glory guarded the far reaches of the North. Sunspear was simmering and baking in the south of Dorne. King's Landing was there and even Casterly Rock he saw built into the gold veined mountains of the west. In Essos the bronze titan of Braavos clutched at its many coins and the smoking ruins of Valyria shot forth pillars of fire from the earth to warm him.

In the end it was all for naught and nothing as he plummeted back to the earth as quickly as he had ascended. In his fall he saw nothing but war and destruction. The brave cowered in fear while the meek stood tall. Men died in a raging river of fire and a lone Aegon bled rubies with his mother's name on his lips. Jon knew it was only the beginning and if he forgot then the cries of widows and the downtrodden reminded him with voices strong enough to shatter the world. When his body crashed into sea guarded by white faces he felt peaceful in his new place. He knew very well the horrors of what lay above those waves and yet the world would not let him stay. Like an eagle pulling his prey from the river Jon was torn out of the waters and thrust onto a barren hill of red. It was a feathered creature that stood over him and it was that feathered beast that betrayed all he loved for love. Without hope Jon watched as the world around him crumbled to dust and swallowed the light that showed him the world and saved it. Only with his wife's guiding hand did he find the strength to pull himself from the dirt. It was with her other hand that she gave to him the tools he would need. With a heavy and content heart he laid the first brick to the sounds of children playing.

The morning's dawn broke early it seemed to him and the sun's light lanced through the heavy clouds and into his eyes. His entire body felt sore and his arse was damp from sleeping in the snow. "Rickon, its time to wake." He called out. With a whimper of disagreement the boy turned over on the cloak and blinked bleary eyes at Jon. "I carried you down from the tree. I didn't have the heart to wake you so I slept out here with you."

Rickon shook his head and on cue a black wolf barreled over a snow drift with a disemboweled raccoon in his mouth. "Good, Shaggy." He called out to the wolf who rested on his haunches in front of the much small boy. "Drop it here." His direwolf gave a small howl to Ghost and backed away as the youngest Stark examined the brown and white creature his wolf had nearly bisected with his dagger like teeth. "I've never eaten this before."

"Do you know how to prepare it? I don't want you to get sick."

The little Stark nodded his head and pried a small knife from a low hanging branch. "Little animals like this take longer to skin. They always taste better though." Without hesitation he buried the knife into the small of the creature's back and begun pulling back the skin. "I thought you would be mad I was out here." He growled under his breath as he peeled away the pelt.

"Not mad, just worried you'll hurt yourself or be hurt. It's not wise to sleep in a tree. You could fall and hurt yourself." Jon felt foolish saying this but he had no choice. "Does Arya know?"

"No, or maybe. She stays up late saying prayers which keeps me awake and by the time I finally fall asleep she is getting up to go do whatever she does." Jon did not know she was leaving so early. For the past week he had always visited them early morning with breakfast in hand and she had always been there then. "I can take care of myself. I didn't even leave the castle. King Aegon gave me that much freedom."

"You shouldn't call him that when he is not around. Your people, they see you as their king. They don't like that you acknowledge his right to rule over your own." Jon said.

"Why? My father wasn't a king. I don't want to wear a crown just because Robb did." Rickon did not know what he was saying or what it actually meant. "Do you want some?" The little boy asked as he cut away the waxy like fat of the raccoon. "After I'm done cleaning it we can roast it over a fire. You could look for some dry wood."

"I think it would be better for that to be cooked in the kitchens. You can eat it with some butter and fruits and breads. There's no reason not to eat in comfort."

Rickon had not agreed fully and he saw it from the way he walked. But he did not fight against what was asked and obeyed Jon. The elderly woman they found in the kitchens seemed horrified by Rickon's selection to break his fast, but she agreed to prepare it all the same. A bath was drawn for the future Lord of the North who unlike Jon had spent half his night in tree and had thick pitch and dirt clinging to him. With his auburn hair he took after Lady Catelyn greatly. Only his eyes hinted at his Stark bloodline though they were brighter than Arya's. "I can wash myself."

"Can you? Arya tells me you've made a habit out of wetting your hair and saying you have." His head bent over in guilt and he took some great interest in his murky bath water. "There will be some very important people in Winterfell today." Jon explained as he poured a bucket of warm water over the boy's head. "Just for a little while though. Tonight we can eat dinner as a family, it can just be Arya and us." He nodded his head and kept still as a log when Jon poured another bucket over him. "If there is time we can go riding too if you like. I've never seen a horned horse before."

"Snowmane is too big. I can't ride him yet, he doesn't even have a saddle." Rickon climbed out of the water and slipped and scurried over to the warming rack. "I'll go if you aren't too busy." He murmured as he pulled towel around himself. "Some people are outside the door. I can hear them whispering."

Jon found that strange and on Rickon's assistance he walked to the door and pressed his ear against the warm wood. True to his word Jon did hear a collected group of men speaking in hushes. "What is going on out here?" He asked as he threw the door open. He saw two men he did not recognize and a third he did not either but he recognized the sigil on his chest and knew a knight when he saw one.

"Forgive us for our intrusion, Lord Jon, but your sister Lady Arya told us that you would be here." Said the knight wearing the colors and stallion of house Bracken on his surcoat. He cast a gaze towards Rickon who was currently dripping wet and lowered his voice. "May we speak alone. I been tasked with keeping this as closely guarded a secret as possible."

"You can speak in front of him. He is the Lord of Winterfell and it would be rude to keep secrets in his own home."

The man flinched for a brief moment and shuffled his horse braided great helm to one of the men next to him. "I understand and while that is the norm ... children do tend to talk carelessly."

"As do squires." Jon replied with a gaze towards the two men with the knight. With a snap of his fingers the southron knight sent both of his followers away. "I'll be back in a moment. Dry yourself and pick something warm without rips or tears if you can." Jon then shut the door behind him and stepped out into the hall with the Bracken man. "Out with it."

"A rider arrived last twilight from the south. I trust you will keep this strictly to yourself. You will not speak of this to anyone unless they speak of it first ... are we clear?"

His tone was demeaning and he had a sneer that Jon found insulting. "On whose authority are you acting upon?"

"The only man who holds dominion over me and my lands. King Aegon Targaryen does not want this to become the topic of wench's gossiping. So I ask you again, Lord Snow, do we have an agreement? Your fellow northmen Lord Manderly and Reed have already sworn themselves to secrecy."

Jon liked to think both men would have told him all they knew if given time if he just refused the southern knight. "Fine, out with it then."

"The Ironborn have sacked Oldtown." Jon felt sympathy for the people of the Reach, but did not know why this was any concern of his. It meant Theon's days were quickly coming to an end and Asha's not long after her child's birthing. "The Westerlords have also raised some boy as King of the Rock to oppose the Hand. You understand how this could harm the morale of the King's army I presume." Jon knew all too well what would happen. All hopes of holding the Wall would be dashed in an instant if the Reachmen went home. "Our ships are also delayed. We have enough food and supplies for two more moons here. No one knows if it was the winter storms or something else nefarious, but the King does not intend to change plans. Keep this close to your heart and you will get your desired support from our King. With the Seven's blessing we will prove these bedtime fables false and toss those godless fire worshipers and Wildlings off the Wall."

"And what will you do when you find everything I've said is as real as these stone walls around us?" Jon had to know and to his shock the man did have some wits to him and fell quiet. "I think I must have done the same as you when I faced with the truth. I hope you have the courage to not tuck tail and run. Because wherever you go-"

"You'll find me and punish me? Is that it boy? Do I have you and a block in my future if I lose my manhood on the eve of battle?"

"No, wherever you go they will find you. If the Wall and those that defend it fall then each of the Seven Kingdoms will be doomed. Even Essos for all I know not that either of us will be around to see that. Know that your friends, lovers, children, and everyone you know will die." Jon saw the fear growing behind the man's pale green eyes. "If that's not enough know that they won't let the dead stay that way. The Others will make a slave of every man and beast they kill. It will be the fallen you fight. Remember that when the time comes for you to stand with us. Remember that this is not a battle for one man's dominion over another or some petty squabble ages old. This will be a battle of the living versus the dead."

Right as he stood was where Jon left the man to join Rickon back in the room. He was happy to see Rickon dressed in something suitable and together they set off to find their sister. Somewhere in Jon's heart he felt it. It pained him more than it should have. He knew from the very moment he embraced the both of them in Moat Cailin that the day was inevitable. He knew that it would be their last day together in Winterfell as a family. Win or lose ... he knew everything would change. 


	78. Home to Wolves

Arya:

 

Everyone at Winterfell was restless and tensions grew higher everyday. It seemed everyone was at each other's throats over the most minor provocations. The men fought over their choice of gods, their lords, their kings, the food they ate, even over the bedding they slept on. A fight was what everyone wanted and a fight was coming.

The Young she-bear or simply the only she-bear now was one of her favorite companions in the past days. She was always willing to part stories of past battles either she or her mother took part in. They were a guilty pleasure of Arya's and always her favorite stories to listen to. Alysane was the only one of the whole lot that did not sugarcoat her exploits. The Greatjon was fun in a strange way as he liked to speak about impossible feats. While his uncles could be a little more tense around her she found them less grating then some. Crowfood when confronted by her claimed that she was not the cause and blamed it on his current standing with his nephew Lord Umber.

It had not been easy, but with Jon's coaxing she took to Shireen Baratheon's side. She felt sorry for her. Whereas Alysane and her would go riding or would spar, the Baratheon girl would rather read or simply watch the men. She was hard to be around Arya shamefully admitted to Rickon once. Her face was so badly maimed by greyscale and she was so very shy around both men and women. Arya was hardly able to meet eye contact with her when they first met. Shireen had known Jon for longer than she knew herself and yet she could not talk about or with him without blushing or stammering over her words.

The only one who seemed able to bring her out of her shell was her first cousin Edric. When around her he morphed from a boisterous braggart to a courteous and even somewhat kind person. When they were together he would try to sing though rather poorly. He would also dance with her which always gave Shireen great amusement and joy.

That current afternoon he took possession of the silver king's gilded lute and tried his best to master its many strings for her. Even Arya broke a smile when in his haste he broke a string and cut his finger cursing loudly as a result. Shireen took his wound without humor and despite his fussing she seemed adamant to make sure it was properly bandaged, cleaned and taken care of.

Many of the southron looked down on her distastefully and some bold and cruel enough would openly insult her and her deceased parents. The worst of all was the mumblings of her fool Patchface being the girl's real father. Both Jon and she did what they could to quell their cruelty, but outside of killing them she saw no way to stop their whispers. It was not a crime on either side of Moat Cailin and Jon never seemed to have the time to really help either of them. Aegon Targaryen of course would shrug his shoulders and ignore their behavior even if she went to him.

Edric was the only one who really protected her and was as fierce as a tempest when it came to her. Twice she personally saw things take nearly a deadly turn after one jape too many was hurled at the Baratheon girl. The Lord of the Stormlands had in the past drawn live steel against both Lord Bushy and Ser Edmund Ambrose for their outbursts. The first time Lord Commander Balon Swann was there to soothe the tensions between the two.

The second time both Edmund and Edric faced off with each other outside the armory. It was with little effort that the knight of the Reach gave Edric a thrashing and humiliating one at that. Even Arya knew that she would have a better chance at besting him than Edric did. From her perspective Ser Ambrose may have tried or aimed to cripple the Baratheon if not for Brienne stepping in. Ser Ambrose in response to her intrusion looked ready to fight Brienne before getting a good look at her. From her questioning of the Tarth she learned that Brienne had bested Edmund once before and he was no rush for a repeat.

Later when the Targaryen found out about the whole affair from the mouth of Brienne know less he had Ser Edmund flogged in the winter town. Edric Baratheon for his part was given a member of the Kingsguard to watch over him day and night to keep him out of any further trouble. "She's my cousin. She's my blood," Edric said to the King when brought before him. "I won't let anyone drag her name through the mud. If I am the Lord of the Stormlands I won't suffer any insult against my family." It was after a brutal tongue lashing from both Jon and the King that he was dismissed and lead back to his rooms. "You'll always have a place at my home, Shireen." He promised Shireen that night with blood encrusted lips.

That was only three days ago and now again he was in pain and bleeding like a pig. "You don't need to worry about me, Shireen." The Lord of Storm's End complained as his cousin took hold of his hand and studied the laceration left behind by the tight strings. "I've received much worse."

In Arya's opinion he was right, though his choice of words could not have been worse. "Defending me." The Baratheon girl exclaimed sadly with gloomy eyes. "I don't care what they say. Words won't and can't hurt me anymore. What hurts me is when I see you hurt."

Her words brought him back down to reality and he looked at a loss for words. "I'm sorry." Was all he could repeat in shame. 

"Then you shouldn't do it again." The words slipped from Arya's mouth like water. "You getting yourself battered and embarrassed does no one any bit of good." If he was truly sorry he would not do it again. Shireen was grief stricken enough as it was and If Edric died she shuddered to think of what would become of her. The Onion Knight's fate was tenuous enough as it was and the Baratheon girl could not lose anymore.

Without her cousin all she would have left as company would be the demented fool Patchface. Arya did not wish his company on Shireen most of all. It was for his sake that she never brought Rickon with her for visits. For the first few days she was near he would only point and exclaim at the top of his lungs. "Her!" Then he would bounce from foot to foot sometimes cartwheeling throughout the air and laughing like a lunatic. Now when she came to visit he would only snicker and point at her before hiding behind Shireen. "Lady of Winterfell." He would whisper in Shireen's ear with a morbid grin.

It was a title she both loathed and perversely enjoyed. She was a Stark of Winterfell and it was her home. That was undeniable, but some spoke to her with respect deemed only for the Lord of Winterfell. It was not her place to take, just as it was not Jon's, it was Rickon's and only his. Even if he was just a little boy more interested in playing and amusing himself it still was solely his seat. Just like it was once their father and Robb's.

He still had many years to grow before he could truly take power and before that time came she was happy to let Jon rule. Especially if it meant making him stay away from the damned Wall. If he would not take the power then she knew it would most likely fall to her and she would take it. She would not let anyone take what was her family's ever again. Not the Dragonking or any of his ilk in the south would deprive Rickon of what was his. Even if she had to come to blows with the Northern Lords she would not back down. She was a she-wolf of the North just like her aunt Lyanna and the five widow wives of Winterfell.

When she was just a little girl she always wanted to rule her own castle. Sometimes in her dreams it was Winterfell that she commanded. Some other times it was one made up of her own imagination. She hoped her father would be pleased and her mother proud. Being a lady was never something that came easy to her and still it did not. Curtsies and manners were easy enough, remembering all the many houses and members a bit more challenging. Actually enjoying the small talks and useless chatters forever seemed to escape her. Stomaching their prideful ways and snobbish attitudes angered her and was impossible.

It was so much easier conversing with the serving folk than the Lords and their Ladies. Arya did not care what fabric or silk was popular or best when it snowed, she preferred to speak of the damage in Winterfell that needed repair or thinking of a solution to land disputes. Being a perfect lady was a talent only bestowed to Sansa, but she would give it her best try for Rickon and the sake of the family. For her efforts she had accrued a few more annoying suitors, though some more tolerable than others. Black Donnel Flint was most enamored with her according to Alysane, but even a blind man and mute man could figure that. Any time he managed to find her alone she would always remind the Flint heir of his Mormont betrothed and without fail he would fluster himself and excuse himself to go beat his shame out on someone in the training yard.

Many were angry when Jon told them of his will that she be left in charge of Winterfell. They wanted either themselves or a kinsmen of theirs given the role. All of the Northmen seemed displeased, even Jon's staunchest allies gave into some anger and complaints. "They want a man leading them. They think the cock dangling between their legs makes them more capable." The She-bear told her that truth as if she could not figure it out herself. Her brother for a small time had stalled their complaints if only for the while. He received no love to do so, but he reaffirmed his decision of leaving her in charge despite their protests.

It did not take them much longer to begin discussing the prospect of giving her away to some highborn shit for marriage. The Ryswells, Glovers, and Tallharts were the first to offer boys to take her hand. Many more houses of lesser renown still put forward names followed by the exploits and virtues that they possessed. Southern houses offered prospects as well, though no one other than those from the south took the thought seriously. Even a distant cousin to the main branch of house Karstark brought forward Harrion Karstark's name for consideration. When Arya informed them that he was still captive in the south it started a short brawl between members of house Karstark and house Mallister who held temporary dominion over both the Riverlands and Harrion. It succeeded in sparing her for a few days thanks to a few broken jaws, noses, and teeth shared between both sides. In the end however many discounted him from the running on principle.

Jon did his best to turn them all down and would not accept any of the proposals put forward without her direct consent which angered seemingly everyone. Even Jon Umber who enjoyed her attitude more than anyone thought it best she pick either the best of the lot. In a stalling attempt to appease them and get them to leave him alone Jon finally left the decision to Rickon's discretion. In truth it was then finally left in her hands like it should have been. She would not be given away like a mare or prized bitch to be bred for some superior lineage and made that quite clear to everyone who proposed to her with blue roses, rich tapestries, or exquisite pelts. Arya had found her lifemate and he was named needle.

Her elder brother still did what he could to quell those future talks and for that she was thankful. Even if it did not stop them from broaching the subject to her directly it did succeed in dampening their ceaseless plotting. She knew that if her father or mother were still alive she could not have hoped for such an outcome. They would have given her a suitable number of men to choose from, but in the end she would have had to choose one. Robb would have done much of the same if he had lived. He could not have afforded to insult his bannermen by denying them.

For a few more years she would be able to get away from them, but she did not plan to be there when the time finally came. The House of Black and White would not wait on her forever. The Kindly Man gave her time to return and that date passed weeks ago. She was still alive which was good, it meant he had not given up on her. That would be her way out when the time came. She just needed to make sure Rickon was safe and his position secure. Making Jon stay at Winterfell was her last goal if possible. Sansa would hate her for leaving, but the life of a lady was not one for her. She would not be a bird in a gilded cage like many others before her. Arya knew she would hate herself for putting her sister through that again however there was no other choice. 

Even now sitting in her family home she did not feel like Arya Stark. She felt more like a guest in Winterfell than anything. It was supposed to be her home and at night she could hardly sleep in her own bed. When walking the halls to clear her head she felt the like a stranger in its halls. They were the very same halls she learned to walk in and it felt unnatural. With every passing day her nightly strolls grew longer and she went further from Winterfell each time. She learned the names of all the serving folk who lived in the castle and yet they were not family. Jon and Rickon were the only ones who remained from the Winterfell of old and calling herself Arya did not make her who she was pretending.

Sometimes it made her cry and other times in enraged her. Did she not go through enough? Had she not made it to the other side of the seven hells? It should have felt like home. It was not fair and she wanted it be home so much, but in the end it still was not. Her wishes and hopes did nothing but make it hurt all that more. Jon told her in time it would begin to feel right. She just had to give it time and he promised it would be home again.

What arose between King Aegon and Harrold in that whorehouse made the both of them take a turn for the worst. Her sister's husband slept longer, drank even more, was absent more, and somehow bedded more women. The Targaryen King in his own way just moaned about whatever nuisance he could spot. Some days it was his missing fleet and other times it could be as trivial as a screeching bird outside his room. Sometimes it was fun and an easy escape to torment him with the mother blackbird that nested near his window.

Regardless of their antics Jon was still none the wiser of Harrold's unfaithfulness it seemed. When or if the day ever came that he did find out she was sure everyone would know that he did. For Sansa and her child's sake Arya half hoped Harry would be far enough away that Jon would not be able to find and kill him. Lately however the gossip that dominated most conversations was of the inscrutable King Aegon fleeing out of a local whorehouse dragging a girl behind him. Jon seemed relieved at the news that the Targaryen actually had human needs and inclinations somewhere buried inside him. 

The tenuous peace that was built between her elder brother and the Targaryen still was holding despite some minor setbacks thankfully. When one on either of their sides complained or raised problems that needed tending to the both of them worked in part to quash them. If Lord Glenmore complained about the southrons in some capacity Jon saw to him and his problems. If Lord Fell thought the Northerners were getting too much grain than Aegon soothed him and his fears. Sometimes they seemed almost as close as brothers to Arya. Yet they were not adverse to their squabbles which ranged from petty complaints to near duels. Most of the time however it simply involved the both of them pouting in silence until someone stepped in to ease them. In time however the Targaryen always saw passed his own foolishness and the err of his stupid and wrong ways. At times when watching him she shuddered to think of what would befall the North without Jon.

In matters of grand importance the Silver-haired King still would not be swayed from his plans. When topics swayed to the Wall or worse the subject of the North rejoining the Crown things usually turned ugly and the Targaryen resembled a crossbreed a mule and rock. "The North must accept me as their one and only sovereign. I give no other choice to them and they will either bend or I will shatter them and their holdfasts." He had said without compassion to Lord Tarly when they thought they were safe. "Aegon the Conqueror uprooted dozens of houses age old in his conquests and I will not mourn those too proud or foolish to oppose me any longer." He had confided to Ser Garlan.

Only when he was with someone close be it his Grandmaester or the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard did she ever hear true honesty from him. "How can I make them understand? How can I show them?" He was a man who held his secrets and reservations far away from the world. A servant or guard nearby never failed to rouse his great and growing paranoia which kept his secrets close. He was a very wise man to do so in her experience, yet it did not hinder her in the least. Sane men and women never took real notice of a bird resting on a window or a stray cat sleeping near their door.

 After Edric gave up on the lute Arya took her turn to entertain Shireen. While she could not sing or play any sort of instruments like Sansa could she did have a fair talent for juggling. Sadly it was a show that the Baratheon girl was used to watching from her own jester. Still Shireen never showed disappointment or even boredom at her attempts of course. The Baratheon girl was all courtesies and dared not complain of anything be it the water given or the bedding she slept on.

"Do you like to juggle, Arya?" The former princess asked her in a tiny voice.

"I do." It felt wrong to lie to the girl, but her tongue never stopped moving. "I learned it from a ship captain in Braavos. Though he could juggle sharpened knives and not ... fruit."

The Baratheon girl gave her a smile that was strangely pleasant and warm in spite of her scars. "I can't imagine the sight. I don't think even Patchface could do that without losing a finger."

"I wouldn't shed a tear if he lost a whole hand." Edric grumbled under his breath. "I wish you would just get rid of him. There has always been something off about him and he has only been getting worse." Arya had to agree with Edric, though wishing death upon the fool seemed a step too far.

"That's mean, Ed. He can't help the way he is, just as I can't help my scars. There is enough hate in the world and you don't need to contribute to it."

As always the Lord of Storms End bowed his head and issued a half hearted apology before mumbling an insult towards the demented fool. The trio took to discussions of the coming march to the Wall and Edric himself seemed excited for the chance to slay an Other. "Spider!" Shrieked Patchface from across the room. He pointed over and over at the open window and looked pleadingly at his mistress for assistance. Shireen calmly walked over to the jester and looked at the widow opening for a few brief moments in search.

"There are no spiders and it's too cold for them. Come and sing us one of your ballads, Patchface." He still looked scared, but did as his lady wished. The fool strutted to the center of the room in his own strange fashion and turned to look at Arya with a queer grin on his face that sent shivers up and down her spine. If not for Edric she have may even felt uncomfortable being in the same room with the fool when he looked at her like he did. His singing voice sounded something like a cat in a heat mixed with the crackling of ice. It did seem to entertain the two Baratheons enough to keep them preoccupied so she took the fleeting chance to look through Nymeria's golden eyes.

Her direwolf padded through the halls around Jon's chambers and in the cold air she could smell Ghost and her elder brother who was pacing back and forth inside. The door was latched shut so instead she turned to look for her younger sibling and his wild wolf. She put her nose to the wind. To her chagrin she found her sibling who was climbing up the third story of Winterfell attempting to reach the roof over the armory. His Shaggydog sat patiently under the little boy and gave a tentative growl to Nymeria before backing off in a submissive stance.

She made Rickon promise to keep his eyes on Shaggy after he took a chunk out of Ser Doran Staedmon's leg. Lord Commander Balon threatened to chain Shaggy in the dungeons if he did it again. On the frigid breeze blowing down from the North she could smell horses eating their feed and faintly heard the banging of horseshoes being forged in the camps. Try to pretend as Jon may, she knew that the army was leaving the next day and soon the castle would be empty. Not even one hundred men would be left behind in Winterfell.

"Ice mates with fire but fire melts the ice, I know, I know, I know." The fool sang as he hopped back and forth from one foot to the next with his eyes pointed high to the ceiling. "Together we all come together to dance, to dance under the sea, to dance under the waves, in the sky we dance, oh we will all dance." Arya wished whoever had given the fool his bells found themselves in the lowest circle of the seven hells. With every step he made the bells jingled and jangled to his incomprehensible ballad. "Will you dance?" He seemed to ask them without pause. "I know I know, oh, oh, we will all dance, we will dance and all will dance with the dead." For all his girth and erratic movements he did have some considerable grace in his movements.

"I certainly won't be dancing." Edric growled before he stood up and roughly tossed Patchface to the floor. "Now leave us, you've already given me enough nightmares to last the next moon and a half." With a queer bow the fool pulled himself off the floor and scampered away, his bells chiming his departure long after he even left the room.

"I've never heard him sing that before." Shireen declared with a flushed face and goose pimples layering her hands and arms. It was a strange effect the fool seemed to bring wherever he scurried to as even Arya found herself relieved that he was gone. "And you shouldn't abuse him. He means no harm and doesn't know what his words mean."

Edric picked up a fallen bell from the floor and rolled it in the palm of his hand. "All the reason you should dismiss him. He causes more harm than good. I can find you much better entertainment than him anyway."

"He's more than just that!" Shireen exclaimed louder and angrier than she surely meant. The onyx haired girl looked taken aback at her own anger but went on. "He's the only one whose never left me. Ser Davos told me that he is going to be punished for following my father and you are going off to war. Do you want me to be alone?"

"Never!" The Lord of Storm's End thrust the bell into his pocket and sat down beside his cousin. "I just ... do you really favor him?"

Shireen nodded her head without a seconds hesitation. "I do, he may be strange but he never stares or-" Edric's breath caught in his throat and she pivoted from what she was going to say. "Just promise me you will never strike him again."

"Fine," As genuine as he seemed at that moment Arya knew he would likely not hold back the next time. The way they both lied to each other was not something she wanted her own family to ever degenerate to. A blind man could see the fear Patchface caused within Shireen, yet for his sake or because of her loneliness she would not dismiss him.

"You'll have plenty of chances to hurt things at the Wall. You should direct all that stupid anger of yours at the Others." The word still felt strange to her tongue. Even during her time at the House of Black and White she never saw anything like what Jon described to her. Accounts put forth by the Wildlings even trumped Jon's stories. Talks of people and animals long dead rising from the grave to kill the living were the most common. Though the Wildlings that called themselves the Thenn told stories of things even worse. Creatures and demons invisible to the eye that can control the cold and the deceased to do their bidding.

A knock hit the door and then Ser Rolland stepped in the room with a plain frown. "Lady Arya, your bastard brother has sent for you." That seemed strange that he would not come himself and before she could voice her complaint he continued. "He's with Our Grace. I've been instructed to escort you."

Arya stood up from her padded seat and straightened her skirts. "Excuse me," Both Baratheon's nodded their heads and promptly she followed the white armored man. "Did he say why he needed me?" She asked him as the walked down the dimly lit threshold.

"No," He curtly grunted and rolled his shoulders when he felt her continued stare. "The boy who came to me said they were rather animated. The white wolf was sent from the room as was Archmaester Marwyn." He eyed her for a mere moment before returning his eyes forward. "I know as little as you, my Lady."

"Thank you." He was by far the most reserved member of the Kingsguard and easily the quietest. Whether it was by design or not it did make him the most intimidating of his order. Each man had his place and did it well. When something was in need of enforcement Ser Rolland was called on. When a hero or inspiring man was needed Ser Loras was called. Lord Commander Swann had the experience and a feeling of wisdom about him. Ser Hightower was a more placid sort than his brothers and it was not uncommon for him to drink and jape with the lesser born folk or soldiers.

The outside of Jon's chambers were filled from wall to wall with men who all grew still and silent when she and Ser Rolland came upon them. "Lady Stark." Greeted them all like a trained flock of ravens. The distaste evident behind their eyes as to why she was allowed in and not them. After all who was she compared to them?

Ser Rolland let her in the door and after she stepped him he closed it behind her. Jon was the only one to rise to his feet when he saw her while the Targaryen scarcely raised his eyes up from the tomes and maps adorning the stone table. "Arya, are you well?" Her brother asked her as he pulled out a seat between his and Aegon's.

"I am, I was surprised you needed me though." She sat down as he bid and briefly looked over a map which detailed the western wolfswood and the rills.

"Would you like to start, your Grace?" Jon nearly spat out.

The Silver-haired King stole a cautionary glance towards Arya and then set his eyes firmly on Jon. "No," He stated before he too rose. "It might be quicker and more painless if her blood tells her then me."

"What makes you think that?"

His violet eyes laughed while his face never broke its stone mold. "I get the feeling she is not fond of me."

"Just tell me, Jon." She sighed trying to ignore the Southron King.

He too looked conflicted and took great time in formulating his words. "A raven arrived from King's Landing."

"Is Sansa ..." She trailed off.

"Gods no. She is well and her babe too." Her brother quickly responded. "The Master of Whisperers wrote that she is healthy and all precautions are being taken for her."

His tone of voice did not make her feel at all comfortable for Sansa and her agitation was growing and the uncomfortable pit in her stomach grew. "What news did the Master of Whisperers have?" The fat eunuch was one of the most dangerous men in Westeros and if his writing caused this great of an effect to the both of them something was very wrong.

"Have you heard of Daenerys Targaryen?" The Targaryen King finally asked when her brother stumbled over his words.

She had heard very much of the Mother of Dragons. Some called the Unburnt and claimed she gave birth to her dragons from her own body. She had heard many names that the world called her by and that she was involved in disrupting the slave trade in Essos. The names the Volantene merchants in Braavos had for her were most unkind. "Yes."

"Good, I fear the rest of the day would be spent on her if you hadn't." His voice cracked with uncertainty. He took another moment to reassure himself before he continued. "It seems my Auntie has taken full control of Dragonstone. Varys has sent dozens of emissarys to her and is still waiting back for her response." He let loose a small chuckle and stared at Jon from down the table. "It also appears that my fleet never left Dragonstone."

"What will you do?"

"That is what we've been ... discussing." Jon murmured.

Aegon's mouth twitched as her brother spoke. "Kind words really aren't needed now. My plans are nearly in tatters and neither of us can afford to waste time. You're brother and I have reached an impasse which is why you're here. We both agreed you deserved some say about how it pertains to yourself."

"He wants to let Asha Greyjoy and her men free." Her brother did not bandy his words and came right out with it. "With an oath and pledge of fealty from her."

"And what about Theon?" Even if he didn't kill Bran and Rickon he betrayed Robb. "Will you just let him go?" She asked the Targaryen.

"You're brother will take his head tonight. With your approval his sister will take his remains with her to the Iron Islands. She tells us that with her Uncle's help she will raise a rebellion against Euron Greyjoy."

"How will she ever get back to the Iron Islands? You have no ships and even if you did you would have to sail them around Westeros."

"Asha Greyjoy has thirty longships docked near Deepwood Motte. In return for Theon's body she will have Lady Glover's children returned." Jon explained. Her brother was clearly conflicted about something that she could not pin down.

The Silver-haired Targaryen sat down on the edge of the table and smoothed his long hair behind his ears. "Varys has lost contact with Tyrion and the Blackfish since they stumbled upon the enemy near Silverhall. He fears they may be dead or routed. I don't trust any of my men to reach the Westerlands fast enough and I need to get a message to the Imp. Without it I fear my council may lose control of King's Landing to my Aunt or seven forbid the High Sparrow. No doubt the city is in a panic with three fire breathing monsters just a stone throw away."

"You're going to trust her to find your Hand?"

Jon growled lightly and clenched his fist tightly. "See? This is madness, we can't trust her. She is a valuable hostage and is safer here than she would be in her own home."

"Well I don't have much of a choice now do I, Lord Snow?" Aegon shot back with fire behind his words. "I see two choices. Either I march my army home or this. So unless you think you and the Wildlings can hold the Wall by yourself this is the only choice. I will not lose my Kingdom to her or anyone else."

"And you are just so happy to risk someone else to keep your damned crown. What is more important, the survival of everyone or your crown?" Jon's words cut as deep as valyrian steel and the Targaryen reacted as such.

"Survival depends on me keeping my kingdom." He said under his breath in a not so certain voice. "What kind of King can't protect his castle? And what kind of King would I be if I let my Kingdom fall? Can there be such a thing as a King with not Kingdom? Why would my people even follow me?" Jon had no answer to his questions and Aegon regained his usual composure in short order. "I won't force her, I promised you that."

"Force what?" Arya felt her brother's stare dim until he could hardly look at her. He seemed ready to punch a hole in the Targaryen's face but kept his composure somehow.

"You have talents, talents that the realm and I need. It's not something I have any right to ask and it's not something that I want to." Aegon's voice was sweet as honey and every word seemed to taint Jon's mood. "I need you to find the Imp."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it is done. Hope you guys enjoyed it.
> 
> Sorry for the long delay but I've been a little dejected of late as I feel I've kind reached a plateau in my writing. I'm not really out of the slump yet, but I'll start working on the next chapter when I get the chance.
> 
> Big chapter for the course of the story though, as I've said before the characters are going to start splitting up again and going off on their own plots for a time before the War of the Dawn.


	79. The Lion Under the Mountain

**Tyrion:**

 

Tyrion made certain that his belongings were all packed away tightly and safely for the next day's journey. He had already lost two tomes and three maps to the seepage of dirty water that constantly rained on them. If he had not studied the charts every night and day he would have almost believed that they had found their way under the sunset sea.

"We're heading in the right direction." The Blackfish had japed with all the enthusiasm he could muster when his young squire asked him in a hush the morn before last. When his pudgy faced squire still squirmed uncomfortably at the thought he laughed even louder. "Of course not, Merrett, you pudding head. Westerlanders are good miners and builders, but if they had that kind of skill we would never hear the end of it from 'um."

Bronn who was seated beside the aged Tully on a brown stallion nodded his head and started a laugh that was picked up by a dozen men in front and back them. All one hundred of the differing voices bounced off the slick and dank cavernous tunnels like the grandest of choruses. Some were loud, some quiet, others deep and menacing, and even a few high pitched like that of a maiden before her first flowering.

Not even Harrenhal and the entirety of its grand size compared to the magnitude of the desolated caverns carved centuries ago. It was a rare find for any man to find a gem or nugget of any real value in the mines. His land was known for many things and their quarrying ability was the most renowned in all of the Seven Kingdoms and perhaps the whole of the world.

His uncle Gerion had once remarked to him when he was an even smaller lad that no finer idols or sculptures were carved in any other of the seven kingdoms. The fact that every day, he woke to find the ceilings of the cavern still holding was good enough for him.

It would have to be a tale that he would share with Archmaester Marwyn one day over a barrel of wine. A last undiscovered location was left in the known world and the old mastiff had never traversed it. In all the days since he had entered the caverns he had not stumbled upon even one living creature. He had not seen even a single corpse or carcasses left behind by time within the dusty halls. He imagined the place would be crawling with creatures both big and little, yet not even one was heard. No cries of a wolf or bear protecting their home ever came. Just silence and darkness lived where they walked. Not even spiders or beetles dared to roam in that forgotten place.

"Pod, fold the map." Tyrion snapped when he spotted his squire rolling the map of the eastern plains of Lannisport. "It will lessen the damage if it gets wet. That map could be vital to victory." Like the faithful boy he was Pod did as Tyrion directed. With the care of a newborn mother with her child he packed it and its sisters away in a pine crate wrapped in supple leather strips cut from spare boots.

"If I may ask, how far are we from the entrance?" Pod finally sputtered out after attending to all of the valuables.

"I don't know. We can't be more than three days away." Tyrion ofttimes wondered how far they had walked since first entering into the veins of the mountain. The Blackfish seemed to think they were a week out from reaching the Fang Tower entrance. Harlys Foros and his invaluable maps and charts on the other hand believed that they would find daylight and the exit any day now. "When we get out of this rock made hell I'm going to torch these cursed things and scatter the ashes to the seas winds." Promised the Braavosi with passion.

It had cost Tyrion a small sum of coin to purchase the maps from the man. The Braavosi man was elated to be rid of them if it meant he never having need to enter the caverns again. "Better in here alive than out there and possibly dead."

"No," Said the Commander of the Bright Banners. "We should be out there fighting those goat fucking traitors. Instead we're living in the darkness like some monsters from a child's tall tale." His cold dark eyes searched the tunnel up and down for a brief respite in deep contemplation. When he was done he rested his eyes solely on Tyrion and gave him a cheeky grin. "Looks like you are ready to play the part, Lord Hand." That realization on his part brightened the men's mood for a short while.

He knew that if suffering through their petty japes got them all out of the caves and captured him Casterly Rock it was all worth it a thousand times over. "My father would agree."

It was only because of the Commander of the Bright Banners that his plan ever would have worked. His charts were hundreds of years old and plotted ruined and antiquated trails. Some of them were so ancient Tyrion had never even seen or heard of them. One of the eldest and more useful charts for mining system was brittle as sin and made no mention and depicted nothing of the Goldroad. It had to be a deal older than Aegon's Conquest by a fair stretch he knew. In the northern front of the Westerlands they still depicted select villages and towns as quite populous despite them being deserted or ruined since his grandfather's birth.

"Even if they outnumber us?" The Blackfish had questioned him.

"If I would have known what this little march was going to be I would have told the lot of you to fuck yourselves." Bronn himself could not handle the caves longer either. The dark-eyed sellsword turned lord expected great recompense for his troubles and it would be hard to say he did not deserve them. Without Bronn the number of missing or dead would have been nearly five times what it was now.

As it stood they had lost nearly two dozen good men to the darkness of the caverns. The Blackfish seemed certain to Tyrion it was from either dangerous footing or that they simply got lost in the many tunnels that lead to Gods' know where. Some of the more superstitious fools of the lot swore they saw golden eyes looking out at them from the darkness. A few took their madness even further and blamed the creatures in the shadows for the fate of the lost men.

Podrick had been one of the braver men the whole journey. Few complaints if any ever came from the Payne's mouth. Not the darkness or fear of losing their way fazed the Pod so much as the ever looming swords of stone that adorned many of the tunnels. "What if they fall on us?" His squire had asked him later as they stared up at the entrancing spires that hung like icicles and even wept like them too.

"We move away?" Tyrion had murmured as he lost himself in the strange beauty to be found above their heads. Like all things of beauty they possessed an ever looming threat and danger to them. The way the fires would cast their lights off the moisture that clung to them would at points make them shine as bright as any star in the night sky. Even under the dirt, rocks, worms, and mountains there were still charms in the world to be found. "Or we die." He punctuated with a chortle that did not dim his squire's growing paranoia.

"That would be a poor way to go." Exclaimed a captain who commanded the majority of the pikes from the Crownlands. "No one would know that we died down 'ere. No one would know how bloody stupid we were to attempt this." The copper haired man rolled back on his side and groaned in annoyance at not being able to find his sleep. "Who in the seven hells builds tunnels this deep and far? Bloody madness, this whole world has gone bloody mad. Dead women rising from the ground and little princelings rising from the dead."

Another man from somewhere behind Tyrion spoke out in a muffled voice. "Could be worse. The dragons in Essos could be true."

"Right, couldn't get much worse 'en that." Replied the captain who gave up his pursuit of rest. "Stranger take me, I can't handle this never-ending drip drop." He then began to whittle down a small square of wood which he pulled from his drawstringed sack.

"It can always get worse." Tyrion exclaimed to the ebony eyed man who shot him a dirty look. "There might be a dragon living in these tunnels. For all I know we might be close to it and its hoard of treasure right now." The man seemed to pale at that though in the poor light it was always hard to tell. "You will see the sun again soon."

He imagined that outside of the mountain the Westerlords had already joined together near the Cornfield and were on their way to Payne Hall. The Blackfish was confident they had already reached the Goldroad and were scratching their heads as to where they had gone. Just as Tyrion assumed Ser Lorren's younger brother took to the news of his elder brother's capture quite well. While Lorren was a fair and good man, if not a tad bit naive, his younger brother was ruthless and ambitious to no end.

Tytos Serrett had once served as his father's squire and the years under him only turned him cleverer than his elder brother. The two boys' father never hid his favor of Tytos and saw this as an opportunity no doubt to get rid of his eldest. No doubt Lord Serrett warned Lord Crakehall of their occupation of Payne Hall and marched with them against the Crown. Tyrion was clear to the Peacocks that it would be Lorren's head if they raised their swords against him.

Not that he would make it known, but he cared little if they raised the Payne Hall to the ground now. Everything of value was either with them or taken to King's Landing. That included Ser Lorren Serrett and the chains that binded him. Tyrion pondered during the quiet stretches of what range of feelings Lorren would go through first. It was never easy to learn that your father would throw your life away so easily. To know that the man whose seed you were born from preferred your siblings to you. After the initial shock wore off he wagered that the Serrett heir would contemplate the life he had lived up to that point. Soon after, he would quake in fear of the headsmen. When the headsmen never came he would remember the Imp and his mercy.

Tyrion also yearned to see Lord Serrett's face when he realized that he had no plans of actually killing Lorren. His King may have been wrong on many things in life, but his notions towards building loyalty in hearts were sound so far. He wondered if Lorren would prefer seeing his younger brother and father sent to the Wall, or if their heads placed on spikes was sufficient. Whatever result, there would be many heads adorning Casterly Rock before the turn of the new moon.

Lannisport would be the first target naturally. Soon his father's slights would turn to Tyrion's advantage. It would only take twenty or so men behind the walls to take the city. He wagered his fortunes and hopes that the city guard was stretched thin from the threat of the Ironborn and they would not be expecting a threat from the east without warn. They would be lax in their guard as they always were.

The realization that it would take only one night to spare thousands of lives was oddly intoxicating. It would come at the cost of a sole boy with a crown on his head to end a war. He sincerely hoped that Martyn took advantage of all the time he had left in the world of the living. Find a pretty girl to lay with, drink good wines, sleep in comfort, and hunt to his leisure. His cousin was a kinder soul than many of his lesser kin and it was a true pity that out of all the choices Lord Roland and Lord Damon had, they chose him. The High Sparrow commonly preached that it is the innocent that suffered the worst in the world and it was hard to argue his stance.

He did not know how much sleep he got before the army began to stir and prepare themselves for the next stretch of dark. From looking at his squire, he knew that Pod had barely stolen a wink and frequently rubbed at his eyes as he saddled both of their horses. They could not spare the remaining wood on campfires so the whole of the army feasted on dried scraps of meat and hard turnips. The wine in his skins had gone dry long ago and their only libation was warm water that did nothing to lighten their situation. Some of the men who had no desire to explore the cavern in their leisure time took to gambling amongst themselves for the richer rations of hard bread and sour goat milk.

In some areas the tunnels were as wide as ten men and their steeds, while at uncomfortably points, they narrowed down to a single horse. The beams and construction of the tunnels varied widely in some places too. He had seen at certain paths many large monoliths of rock that held the ceilings from collapsing. The farther they went into the darkness the more common they seemed to become. "I've never seen craftsmanship like this in my entire life." The Blackfish had stated after dismounting from his horse to take a piss.

On each side of the tunnel stood pillars of dark grey stone overgrown with white roots and covered in loose dirt. Each carving stood nearly five yards from each other on every side and carved deep into their faces were runes of a language Tyrion knew not. "It's not any form of Valyrian I know." The Lannister murmured as he undid his trousers and picked a bright red fern. "The strokes are too broad."

"I remember the runes on King Robb's crown better than my first love." Replied the Blackfish as he tucked himself back away.

Tyrion had seen and studied a handful of runic writings of the Old Tongue as a child and still did not recognize them. "It must predate the Andals." The carving went deep into the rock. So deep that his fingers slipped down to the second knuckle when he admired its smooth surface. The groves of the runes were as soft as silk to the touch. In contrast to the rough grey mineral that bordered them.

"Get back into line." Ordered Ser Brynden to the soldiers after he threw himself back on the saddle of his chestnut horse. "I'll go scout the path on ahead." The grey haired said to Tyrion before he kicked his horse into a slow and careful trot.

"Let me help you, M'lord." Pod said as he pulled Tyrion's red steed to him. The Payne squire then helped Tyrion into his saddle and afterwards mounted his own pony.

A prolonged silence dawned on the head of the long column of men and Tyrion let his thoughts drift to King's Landing. He longed to see Myrcella once more, he was sure she would be enthralled by the turn of events he had been through. Tyrion thought that a few fibs or exaggerations were in order to make it a proper tale worth telling. "Have you seen any lions of late, Pod?"

"No-no." His voice trembled ever so slightly and his eyes shifted to and fro in search of one such beast.

The Hand of the King clicked his tongue in annoyance and shrugged his shoulders. "For the best no doubt. I cannot in truth claim that I would fancy our odds against a great lion of old in this place." It would take a single growl from a lion great or lesser for half the men to flee and soil themselves in fear. It would be nothing but utter and complete madness. "Mayhaps she'll simply enjoy the truth. And it was dark, damp, dusty, there was far too little wine and not a feather bed in sight." His chuckle brought a bit of life into the lifeless caverns and he then added. "I can say for certain that this was not dug out in any time recent. Say what you will about my family but we enjoy our comforts and settle for only the best."

"M'lord," Pod stuttered uncertainly as he stared at Tyrion in confusion. While trying to gather his courage or make out his next words his squire pulled the water skin from his saddle bag and offered it to him. "do you need some water?"

"No, I'm perfectly fit and sane of mind." Tyrion was sure he was. "Perhaps my niece will just enjoy a trinket from Lannisport instead."

His squire pulled himself up higher in his saddle and straightened his surcoat. "A dozen bundles of silk or velvet?"

"She has enough dresses I'm sure. Though perhaps Lady Sansa would enjoy satin or velvet. I think a nice ring or necklace would suit her. Diamond, rubies, or sapphires, and jade with gold of course." He was sure she was having a rough time in King's Landing. Every man and women with a set of eyes and a working mind knew that she detested King's Landing. Yet all the same, at her husband's request she followed him into her personal hell and then he left her to go play at war. The first time carrying a child is a difficult experience for all women, his maester had taught him when he was just a boy. Carrying that first child in a place one hates without a relative or husband to support her must be altogether worse.

In time he wondered if she would accept an invitation to visit Casterly Rock. He knew that in the past that some Targaryen Kings would move their courts to Casterly Rock for a time. Tyrion was confident that Myrcella herself had not seen those halls since she was barely knee height to her mother.  _It would do everyone a bit of good to spend time away from that nest of liars._

"I had a nightmare last night." His squire informed him after Brynden finally returned and they commenced their march. "I dreamed that King's Landing would be swallowed by a giant."

"Really? A giant?" His squire did squirm and groan much in his sleep but he did not expect him to speak anything of it. "More likely it's swallowed by the snows than a giant." A small chuckle left his lips. "Any being who could stomach the taste of Flea Bottom would be a fearsome creature indeed, I admit." Keeping the city down and digested would require much talent and a fondness of shit and lies. "So tell me what this giant looked like? Hopefully he shared no resemblance to the departed Ser Gregor Clegane. Night terrors should have boundaries and he's a step too ugly to be fair. Though his brother would be something more ghastly than him, I suppose."

"I don't know." The Payne boy admitted as he nervously combed his hand through his thin black hair. "We weren't there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I would like to give a big shout-out to my new editor Ocadioan over on Fanfiction.Net. What you just read is undoubtedly better than what it was before he went through it for me.
> 
> Hopefully this chapter is the more standard quality that you have all come to expect from me.


	80. Win or Lose

**Sansa:**

 

"My two lieutenants; Jasper and Willem have reported four hundred absences from duty this week alone." Reported Ser Terrence Hill as he read off his scroll. It seemed from the size parchment it should have taken him no longer to finish reading then to boil a pot of tea. Yet she herself had finished two cups of strawberry and mint while still he went on to struggle and stutter over his words. "All of the illegal settlements on the southern walls have been torn down. My second in command Arthur took direct command of the job and delivered the rubble to the-" His eyes briefly scanned over the Tyrell girl who pleasantly smiled at him and he swallowed hard. "the High Septon as you commanded Lady Margaery. Six hundred are reported to have sought shelter in some other place in the Kingdoms."

"Excellent work, Ser." Remarked Arianne Martell from over the brim of her goblet. "You have certainly earned your position as Commander of the Goldcloaks."

Sansa heard the lightest of groans from Lord Varys and she stifled her own smirk. If the Princess was looking for someone to thank for the mass exodus of vagrants in the city the culprit was a woman not a man. It just so happened that the woman also was occupying her future child's castle and island. The Spider told her in the past days that nearly all the refuges in the city that fled there for food and safety would be gone before the new moon came. "These people have seen the dangers of war and wish to not see anymore of it." Were his exact words.

"I owe it to those that I command, Princess. And thanks must also be given to Lady Arryn." The Commander of the Goldcloaks stated with a polite nod of his head to her. "The men she gave over to assist me have been a very helpful." Sansa heard a distinct lack of 'temporary' in his words, but let it go. Harwyn was the one who deserved the credit as he was the one of approached her with his idea. It was Harwyn who thought that the Goldcloaks needed experience and teachings from the Valemen troops.

"It seems I made the right choice." Tittered the eunuch. "Two days and you have already established yourself in our small council." Her intention was not to do any such thing. It was Varys who approached and beseeched her to take her husband's vacated seat on the small council. If she had any such option to refuse him she would have.

It was the poorest form of luck that followed her in King's Landing. She sometimes wondered if the King's Landing truly did hate her or if the New Gods were to blame. The true duty of the Warden of the East was to protect the eastern coasts. Not since King Aegon the Fifth's reign had the duty ever been needed. It should have been her Harry that was sitting where she did now. She should have been sipping tea over her embroidering with Bethany and other noble ladies. He should have been here to take up his duties as the Lord of the Vale. Instead he was waging war with her father's bannermen.

"Why me?" She asked the eunuch before accepting his offer days ago. It seemed like madness at the time, now it had only lessened to fooliness.

His perfume at the time was a sweet lilac applied quite liberally that assaulted her nostrils. She guessed he did it to mask some form of body odor. "I fear the Martell's power." He answered her with sincere honesty. Not that she felt she knew when he was truly lying. Petyr had taught her hundreds of different tells that men and women gave when they lied and he never displayed a single one of them. She did not know if that meant he was the greatest liar or the most honest man breathing in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Are we not all on the same sides? Do we not all serve our King? Did we not all swear our loyalty and fealty to him?" Sansa would not allow herself to get tangled up in another war between the greater houses. If the Spider wanted a new toy to sway and coerce into his bidding he would have to find another. She had no interest outside of her own kin when it came to the games of the south and Varys would not pull her into them.

"As it stands right now I am the only one working solely towards the Kingdom. Lord Tyrell was another I could rely partly in that aspect. He is gone to attend to his bannermen and has left his grandmother decades younger in his place. Two Martells sit on the small council and I find myself outnumbered three to one. You may care little of our King and for that I am sad, but he is the best chance for lasting peace. If not for yourself think of your future children. Would you not rather they grow up in the world you knew at Winterfell. Or is the world after Lord Eddard's death the one you wish to return to?"

His words had stung like a slap. "You're cruel, Lord Varys." The fat eunuch gained a look of false pity. "Only until my husband returns, after that my commitment to you will be at an end." The master of whisperers looked quite pleased with himself and bowed low at the hips in gratitude. He took two silent steps from her before she stopped him. "Know that I'm not just going to be a puppet for you on the small council. If I'm staking my reputation and the station of my husband's house I will not dishonor myself to let you achieve your way. If I agree with Princess Arianne or Margaery instead of you I will not balk at supporting them."

The eunuch snickered like a little girl and turned to face her. "I assure you that possibility is slim to none, Lady Arryn. If either of our hopeful queens were prone to common and rational sense then I would not be here."

Harwyn had offered to accompany her to the small council's meetings, but she told him it was unnecessary. What she declined to tell him is how much harm that would cause to her house. They would think her some incompetent and scared girl. Worse still would be the northerner's temper. She did not need him making another social blunder after his last spat with the Princess' sworn shield.

As it stood currently the small council was smaller now than it ever had been before according to Varys. The King and Lord Commander were fighting in the North and they took with them the Grandmaester. Both the Hand and the Chief General of the realm were in the Westerlands. Varys seemed sure that the Master of ships was rotting in Dragonstone or dead. Lady Nym and the Spider were the only traditional members still in the capital. Arianne Martell and Sansa both were interim members given their seats out of necessity. While Margaery was a mere stand in for her brother during his absence.

She was thankful to the Seven and Old Gods that Ser Terrence's weekly report was over with. While most of their guests were brief and tried not to waste their time, the Commander of the Goldcloaks was oblivious to the fact that they had more important things to discuss. It was during the end of Sansa's first day in the small council that Lady Nymeria called for a vote. Prince Oberyn's second eldest daughter thought it prudent to afford Ser Terrence a short-term position amongst them which was promptly voted down.

Varys was the main opposition to the movement. "I feel his place belongs out there enforcing all of your new ordinances and laws, Lady Nymeria, not in here." He was right of course and she was still quite happy that she voted with him and Margaery against the move.

It was when the Commander finally left their small meeting hall within Maegor's Holdfast that she saw something. It was a brief and small flicker in the man's eyes when the Dornish bastard wished him farewell. Neither Princess' nor Margaery's words resulted in what she saw in the man's eyes. Petyr had taught her that one of the quickest ways to secure a man's loyalty was love, or the illusion of love. If the Martells had complete control over the Commander of the Goldcloaks, then Lord Varys was right to be worried. It was not something she was happy at all about, but if her fears were true then he did need help.

After talks of tax collection and recompose for past acts of aggression were taken care of, the Dornish Princess addressed the real situation that was present in every single mind in King's Landing. "We need to flee King's Landing. We have no chance of defending it against the Mother of Dragons and her army of savages." Sansa did not expect her to be so blunt which nearly caused her to spit up her tea.

"And give up the Iron Throne? Give up our King's castle to one who wishes to take it and everything from him?" Varys questioned. "My little birds assure me that she does not come in peace."

Nymeria snorted loudly. "Your little birds?" Both Martell and Sand shared a brief look at each other before the latter continued. "Your little birds assured you, and you promised us that we had nothing to fear from her. You told us that her next target would be Volantis or even Old Ghis." Sansa had not the faintest recollection of what they spoke of. A quick scan of the room told her that she was the only one left in the dark. She had only known that Princess Daenerys' was in Slaver's Bay until Dragonstone's capture. "Yet Volantis remains unsacked, unconquered, and still practices slavery. Old Ghis' legions still stands in lockstep and their pyramids remain tall and strong."

"What my beloved cousin means, Lord Varys, is that you have made a major blunder. With all due respect, you are the only one here that is at blame for Dragonstone's capture." The Princess' voice was a sweet as lemon cakes even when she admonished the eunuch. "And before you so rudely interrupted me, I was not going to suggest we stay here and welcome her to King's Landing. What we need to do is flee. Leave the city to its fate and find the nearest holdfast to garrison."

"And what of the people?" Margaery asked in utter disbelief. "We cannot leave them to Dothraki screamers, exiles, and what other evil forces she commands. If we do not look after those under us, then why should they follow us? Why should they trust us?"

Nymeria's smirk grew wide and her dark eyes crinkled. "In my land, those that cannot protect themselves do not deserve protection. If they are not wise enough to flee from death, then they surely must welcome it."

Margaery's bewilderment could not rise anymore and she gripped the edge of the table in a refined fury. "How can you say that? What about the elderly? What about the sick? What about their homes and possessions? You would ask them to give up their livelihoods and possessions because we cannot protect them."

"I would and they would be wise to act fast. Homes can be rebuilt, but vocations and trades cannot be taken away. If you can smith in King's Landing you can smith in Dorne or the Stormlands. Bakers can bake in the Reach and fishermen can fish in the Riverlands." Arianne was adamant and unflinchingly confident with her ideas. "We of Dorne were the only Kingdom to resist the Targaryens and that was not without great strife and struggle, but we did succeed in the end."

Sansa did feel there was some merit to the Dornish way if not a tad bit cruel and risky. Should the Mother of Dragons figure out their intentions too soon she may be able to run them down on the road. Their pace would be slowed to hardly a crawl with all the populous of King's Landing. That was even under the foolish notion that each and every person would obey. It would take only one pair of loose lips for the ploy to be discovered.

Furthermore she was in no rush or hurry to trust the Martells. The truth of Three Towers destruction was still undetermined and it was what pulled Willas from King's Landing. While the Martells did share more blood with King Aegon than with Queen Daenerys, they still shared droplets. Some gossipers even claimed that Arianne still wanted her inheritance of Dorne more than she wanted to be queen. The Princess claimed that her brother had been sent to treat with the Mother of Dragons before Aegon declared his intentions for the throne. _Could her brother already married to Daenerys?_ Sansa wondered as she eyed the Martell girl for any telling sign of deceit.

If her younger brother Quentyn was already a Prince Consort to the Targaryen Queen, then Arianne certainly could not be queen. All she could hope to gain as her father's heir was Dorne. "If not that we flee, mayhaps we should open the gates for her." Nymeria Sand suggested like it was the most mundane of small chatter. "Open the gates, listen to her and learn what she wants."

"Are you mad? Let her and her army of Dothraki and Ironborn into the city?"

"Let me finish, Lady Tyrell." Warned Nymeria. "Let us see if she intends to take the throne for herself. If she doesn't and is willing to see reason then we will have no problem. If she does want to steal what does not belong to her then we will tell her whatever she wants to hear. We can give her whatever she wants, and when she lets her guard down we can end this threat once and for all."

"Murder?" Sansa questioned.

"Justice." Arianne promised. "Fire and blood to those that followed with her in this treason."

Nymeria sipped her wine quietly and let the room stew in its thoughts until she reached the bottom of the cup. "If the thought is too distressing or horrendous for you, do not worry, Lady Stark. You will not be expected to take part in the act. I volunteer myself to push the first knife into her heart."

It was not the act itself that caused Sansa's stupor but what it represented. _Would we be no better than the Freys?_

"Then what?" Varys asked the two Martells. "What will we do after she lies dead? We do not have the numbers or strength to battle her army in the fields. If we let her into the city she will bring every last one of her children with her."

"And will we push knives into her dragons' hearts too?" Rumors made her dragons' wingspan to be anywhere from six and a half to ten yards. Stories read to her as a little girl claimed that Balerion the Black Dread, at the height of its life could cover entire cities in shadow when soaring over them. "She's their mother and they will not look fondly on her killers."

"Lady Sansa is quite correct," Lord Varys lightly rubbed her hand that was flat on the table and smiled kindly at the other women. "On the night the Blackwater burned, both Stannis' and the Royal Fleet were lost to the flames with an assistance of wildfire. Three hundred ships were destroyed in one night from the substance and it is only a pale imitation of true dragon flame. Three dragons gone wild could burn King's Landing to ashes and half of Westeros if left unchecked."

"If I may," Lady Margaery drew attention to herself. "I spoke with the High Septon this morning." From Sansa's understanding, Margaery spent some of every day conversing with him. Numerous lords and ladies believed her a full and committed zealot after her time in captivity. She did not know the truth of the matter, but it did seem that Margaery prayed far more now than she had before her trial. While she could no longer enter any septs while excommunicated, the High Sparrow seemed more than happy to take the time to pray and converse with her. "He has taken full notice of the threat Daenerys Targaryen poses not just to this city, but all of the kingdoms."

"So he has eyes." Nymeria Sand stole the thoughts from Sansa's head and turned them into words. If he did not notice the threat at all, then perhaps it would have been an important topic for them.

"He does and ears too." Said Margaery coolly ignoring the Master of laws. "She leads an army made up of flesh-eating heathens who care nothing for our civilized ways. When they look at us they see a land ripe for them to pillage, rape and burn. Every morning and eve, he talks of it in his sermons. To make peace with the savages, or to allow them to continue in their practices, cannot be. Those that worship the heart of fire have declared her their champion. The same ones who once declared Stannis as their champion and fought for him. They now all pray to her health and for her victories. They will view her and only her as the true monarch."

"What are you suggesting we do, Lady Margaery? I've already explained that we do not have the numbers with us. We could not hope to go on the offensive against her now." Slowly explained the Master of whisperers.

"I wasn't suggesting that at all, Lord Varys. What we must do is bar all the gates and lock down the port. Send all the ravens to anyone who could ride to our aid. My brother will surely come and if you could write to your father for him to send aid it might make her reconsider her stance in attacking." Sansa could only envision them as thousands of smoldering corpses littering the fields outside of King's Landing. No army has ever been able to stand against three dragons and no amount of skill would change that. "I do not believe she would risk letting her dragons loose on the city. She has far too much to lose if she did."

Varys paused to take a sip of his bright red wine and then shook his head meekly. "I am not so sure, and I would not risk my life on her staying her hand for a the Iron Throne or the Red Keep." Sansa was not so sure. She knew that she would have destroyed Winterfell if it meant reclaiming it from the Boltons. Castles can always be rebuilt.

"I agree with, Lord Varys." Sansa saw a flicker of hurt in the Tyrell's golden eyes, but she did not cease. "I am not willing to risk our lives or my unborn child on her finding sentimental value in a castle she has never grown in."

All eyes turned to looked at the Martell girls. "I also must decline." Said the Princess.

Margaery's mouth twitched in disapproval and she sighed. "Then it's decided." The Tyrell grabbed her own cup of berry tea and held it close to her chest. "The High Septon has also asked me to relay a message to the small council. He wishes for a place amongst us."

The Spider's frown could not have sunk deeper into his round face. "Historically that is rather ... well it simply has not happened. There have been septons on the small council in times past, but the King, or his Hand for that matter, have no obligation to fulfill his request. I do promise that I will include it in my next correspondence with either the Hand or our Grace. However I can make no promises that either will accept." Lord Varys seemed taken off guard and shocked by the request. It was a subtle flicker of real emotion that Sansa had never seen on the Spider before. It was one she would remember.

It had become startlingly obvious just how deeply both Tyrion's and King Aegon's absence were affecting everything in King's Landing. Lord Willas' recent departure could have only made things somehow worse, he was the only true Lord with military power that sat amongst them. The power void was wide open and whether by pure luck or calculated plan, the Mother of Dragons could not have picked a better time to strike.

"If you would, Lord Varys, I would like you to relay to them that Dorne supports the suggestion of giving the High Sparrow his seat. It is high time that all the powers in King's Landing join together and work for a better future." Princess Arianne and her bastard cousin seemed to be in complete agreement. It intrigued her and again shocked the eunuch Master of Whisperers.

Sansa wondered what game they could possibly be playing at. It was impossible that they had some control over the High Sparrow. If they somehow did then the Spider would surely have known. Or she at least hoped he would. Before Daenerys' landing on Dragonstone she thought that Varys could know everything before it happened. Even Littlefinger was wary of him. He admitted to her one night after he released himself in her mouth that he had sat on Robert Baratheon's small council for years and never learned what the eunuch was playing towards. Sansa knew what he was playing at then, but what he was working as of now was a mystery.

She had exposed herself far too much and far too early. Sansa did not join the council to provoke or make enemies of either Tyrell or Martell. "I too will support a new position being made. For the sake of unity if nothing else."

"I will make sure the King and Hand receive all of your opinions on this matter." Varys tittered with a sweet smile. He then clapped his hands together and announced. "This will be all for today, let us all meet again tomorrow. The placement and storage of the Crown's grain must be addressed."

Uncharacteristically Lady Margaery was the first to rise from her seat. Even stranger was that she made for the door without so much as a glance or word for Sansa. In the past she would always take care to invite her to share supper with her and her cousins or a session of needlework. The two Martell women were the next to leave. Each one gave their farewells before leaving arm in arm together in whispering amongst themselves. Varys did not look up at her from his writings even when she wished him farewell.

As always half a dozen of her most trusted and capable household guard awaited her outside of the meeting hall. "Shall we return to your chambers, M'lady?" Asked Ser Henry whose eyes drooped dangerously in drowsiness.

"We shall." With a gentle smile she took the lead and all six men filed in behind her. "I trust there was no trouble."

The visor on Ser Henry's helmet rattled as he shook his head. "Everyone kept to themselves, M'lady."

"Good," She beamed in true relief. "After your shifts end and you are all relieved, I want you to go to Master Ambrose. Tell him that for all your exceptional service today, house Arryn will pay for a barrel of ale that you all may share." That seemed to perk the men up, and she heard their step pick up two-fold from what it was prior.

"You are too kind, M'lady."

Suddenly without warning she heard the unmistakable sound of steel slicing through wood and swords being drawn from their hilts. "Oh my!" Shrieked a frill voice.

Her household guards were all drawn around the perfumed eunuch like bees to a fresh flower. "Stand down." She commanded and dutifully they sheathed their blades. "It is not wise to sneak up on armed men, Lord Varys."

"I did not intend to sneak, Lady Stark, but I did not want to interrupt." The powdered man turned to face the largest brute of a man. "I advise you purchase your ale from the Barge Inn. It is a fair bit more expensive, but the ale is cleaner and the cost is house Arryn's. Why not enjoy yourselves?"

"Is there something you wish of me, Lord Varys?" The eunuch tried to take a step closer, but a broad fist mailed in steel blocked his way. "Let him."

"Shall we share the walk back to the Red Keep together." Without replying to the Spider she began a slow pace towards the exit of Maegor's Holdfast. "You handled yourself quite well today."

"Give us some space." Sansa plainly asked her guards who on command fell ten or so paces behind her. "Do you think so?"

The eunuch bobbed his head and his fat trembled like that of a cock's wattle. "I do."

"I only spoke the truth. And I did not handle myself in any fashion." Sansa eyed the Spider from the corner of her eye and spotted a sly smile on his plump lips.

"Of course, what else would we be talking about?" His smile grew wider and toothy then, he deemed her worthy of a lighthearted giggle. "Be careful playing both sides, Lady Stark." His voice was thin and quiet as a mouse. He was so subtle in his speech that she could hardly see his lips move at all. If not for the glint in his eyes she could not be certain that he actually said a word. "One day very soon, blows will come to pass between the Tyrells and Martells."

"I'm sure it will not come to violence between our forces and Queen Daenerys'." She took the opportunity to look far down the empty hall for anyone hiding. "She would have nothing to gain."

"I hope so, but alas I always expect the worst of most things. Pity that more times than not, I am proven right in the end." Loudly answered the Spider in such a way that his voice bounced off the walls of Maegor's Holdfast. "Know that betrayal from one you consider a friend always stings worse than one from an acquaintance. Likelier to create grudges too."

Sansa turned to look at her guard to ensure they still maintained the gap. "Perhaps if we just had a common friend to both sides, then any dispute could be curtailed."

"Perhaps you are right, my Lady." Snickered the Master of whisperers as his hands cowered back into his wide sleeves. "It is good that both our King and the Mother of Dragons are kin. I shudder to Imagine the hindrance in our way if they came from families that despised each other. I know I'll thank the Gods tonight for that small favor." The eunuch let out a loud cough and said in a hush. "If they both truly desired peace with each other, I would trust in your notion more."

"I know that." How could she not know? If she forgot for even a moment she would need to just stick her head outside her window. It was commonplace to hear some squabble between the Dornish and Reachmen nearly take a bloody turn. As the opened portcullis to the outside of Maegor's Holdfast came in sight, she turned down a dimly lit hallway to her left. Varys still clung to her and walked beside her into an abandoned room that housed piles upon piles of unhung tapestries. "Watch the door and do not let anyone pass." Ser Harry looked confused but nodded his head and drew his sword before she closed and latched the door shut. "What else would you have me do? Why don't you tell me what I should do if you know so well."

"Many have taken their positions on the small council for granted since its founding. Many have abused the power it gave them. Some have abused it so much that it cost them their heads. Others have used it to advance their house and station in life. A few select individuals have even done all that was asked of them. The one thing that they share, whether they are good, bad or neither, is that they all come and go, and then they die." The eunuch's eyes withered for a moment and he giggled for a moment. "I too will share in that fate with them. You will as well one day, though if Gods be good, that day is still a long time away. The Valyrians of old were fond of that lesson, and it is one of their many surviving legacies. Valar Morghulis they would say."

"What lesson do you mean to teach me?"

The Master of Whisperers smiled kindly at her. "Margaery Tyrell or Arianne Martell may be our queen one day. Perhaps even Daenerys will hold that honor."

"But?"

"Aegon will be King." His voice lost all traces of affection and turned to something she had never heard from him before. "I have worked tirelessly for thirty years. I have worked for the good of the realm for nearly my entire life and I will not see my efforts wasted. Our duty on the small council is to work towards the good of the realm, not the good of the King. That is just a lie monarchs like to tell themselves. I served a madman, a drunken fool, then a boy as mad as the madman, and then a sweet child. Now I serve only my King. The King that I have waited and worked towards since his birth. The very same King I took from his mother and returned to her a tanner's son. And I will not let anyone ruin that. I will not. Whatever the cost, be they innocent or not."

With a free hand he opened the latch to the door. His other hand slipped from his sleeve and in his palm was a slip of paper no bigger than her finger. "Good day, Lord Varys." Sansa bowed her head, and as she passed by him, she took the parchment in her free hand and slipped it into her bodice. "Did you see anyone?" Ser Henry shook his head. "That's good. After you, Ser."

She made the walk back to her apartments in complete silence. The Spider's words echoed over and over in her head. A sense of dread began to wash over her the more and more she pondered what he had said. As the door to her rooms came into view and she spotted the two guards flanking it she felt a wave of relief flood over her. When the door firmly shut behind her, she reached down and tenderly caressed her bulging tummy. Her child was the only concern on her mind now. The city and everyone in it could burn in the seven circles of hell for all she cared. The only thing that mattered in the world was growing inside of her and was hers to protect.

Over the next hour, she waited on Hos Blackwood and Mya's appearance and thought of nothing but fleeing King's Landing. Thoughts of going to Riverrun with all those that served her, or even going to Winterfell dominated her thoughts.

The first to arrive was Hoster and he seemed rather muddled as to why she had called for him. "I am yours to command, my Lady."

"I need you to prepare your sister for travel. It is no longer safe for her here. Bring her to Riverrun and gather every available man you can there." Sansa could not let herself be distracted or worry herself over little Bethany. The sooner she was gone from King's Landing the better. "Tell her that I will be following her within the week. Now go and don't dally." It was slightly impressive just how quickly Hos could change dispositions. He did not even question her once before he tore from the room in a deer like sprint.

It was a few dreadfully long minutes later that Mya strolled into the parlor stinking of horse with a stray piece of yellow straw sticking from her collar. "What is the bustle about? Hoster ran past me like stallion in heat."

"Do you have anyone in the city that you can trust completely?" Sansa asked as her hands nervously fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves.

Mya's eyes drifted to the ceiling and she squinted hard. "Two people. One is in this room with me now and the other is Lothor Brune."

Sansa knew that she should have expected the Apple-Eater. He and Mya always did seem to be together. "I need you to learn everything you can about the Commander of the Goldcloaks; Ser Terrence Hill. I need rumors, I need secrets he would prefer not to be let known. I need everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the great work, Ocadioan.


	81. The Second Son

**Garlan:**

 

"Hand it over, little brother." The elder demanded. His fairer brother did as asked, though he took his leisure in doing so. The second son of house Tyrell put the skin to his lips drank down the water. It was so cold that it clenched his throat to an almost painful degree. "Don't get lazy even if you think you have the upper hand."

Loras sneered at his elder brother's advice. He then picked up his kite shield from out of the snow and shook it clean. "I know that. And I did not get lazy ... I just didn't want to hurt you."

It was the elder Tyrell's turn to sneer and with a great chuckle added behind it. "As if, little brother. Just because Aegon pinned a white cloak to your shoulders does not mean you can best me." Garlan Tyrell ran his hand through his curly hair soaked with sweat. "How about we go another round and see if I can make it a straight three wins?"

His younger brother banged his blunted sword off the three white roses on his shield. Loras moved back to their own battlefield with an annoying and proud smirk that he had not earned the right to wear today. "Keep a close eye, Ser Balon. You may learn a thing or two." Loras called out to the Commander of the Kingsguard who sat against a distant stone wall that had fallen to shoulder height.

The Swann man looked up from the whetstone that he ran across his blade. He let out a yawn and glanced at them both with disinterest. "When I need tips from a pretty haired cocksure boy like yourself I'll go watch the squires flail at each other."

Before his younger brother could quip anything back Garlan leaped at him with a stab, which was quickly deflected by Loras' shield. "How unsightly." His brother laughed out as Garlan forced him around their training field with battering overhead blows that rattled both men's arms. "Tricks are beneath us," Loras exclaimed as he deflected another blow and moved to attack. His outburst had nearly caused Garlan to drop his arms and break into fits of laughter. It was a particularly witty and cruel jape that he would be sure to take as his own and tell Willas. "Did you see the giant yesterday?"

Garlan's stroke landed just short of his brother's shoulder and in desperation to recover he kicked his brother in the shin. It achieved its purpose sent and Loras on the retreat for a moment. "No, but I did see that giant white wolf. My horse nearly died of fright when it passed by us with its master." The youngest boy, Rickon, told him that the dire wolves belong to no one but themselves. Garlan remained unconvinced. He had seen and hunted wolves in the wild many times before, and he had never seen one obey the commands of men like the Stark dire wolves did.

When Loras regained his balance, he leaped at Garlan and brought down on him a wild slash that would have split his head in two, had he not parried it. "The thing consumed half a cart full of turnips, cabbage, and carrots." Loras heaved out in exhaustion after foolishly placing all of his energy into his last stroke. "Can't the thing forage for its own sustenance?"

"I don't know. Can it? Can't it? Why don't you go and voice your complaints to him, little brother? If it rips off your arms and legs and then swallows your head like an olive we'll have our answer." If someone was going to complain about rations it would not be him. It was Lord Rykker's wine that was given to the giant. The hairy beast carried the entire cask like an ordinary man would hold a mug of ale. Garlan was fairly confident that they did not have wine on the other side of the Wall. Still, the giant could handle his wine like a practiced lush. Many of the Northmen took great enjoyment in watching the giant slip and stumble in the snow after emptying two casks. Not that he himself ever dared to get too close. One wild swing of its arm could turn a man to paste. "Have you seen it drink wine?"

Loras nodded his head just as Garlan wanted him to and sent an uppercut under his brother's chin which knocked him loopy. Before his brother could regain his bearings, Garlan feigned a stab and then drove his shoulder into his brother's gut. When he felt the air exhale from Loras' gut, he flipped him over his shoulders and threw him down into the snow. "Yield, little brother." He ordered and placed the tip of his blade against his brother's fleshy and pink neck.

"Another cheap trick ... but I yield all the same." Loras spat and in return Garlan took his brother's outstretched hand and pulled him back to his feet. "Do you remember when Megga decided that if she could outrace Willas, she was destined to be a tourney knight?"

He nodded his head and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I do remember, better than you I'm sure." Loras had been only six at the time and still soiling his bed linens.

"When Will told her he had no authority to make her a tourney knight, she made me race her instead." 

"Leave your arse in the dust, did she, Flower Knight?" Ser Balon asked with a snicker that Ser Humfrey, the Redwyne twins, Dickon Tarly and Garret Celtigar found great humor in.

Loras shot each and every one of them a glare full of venom and defended his honor. "I wouldn't race her. Grandmother would've had my head alongside her afternoon tea if I did." 

"So you were too scared to even try." Slobber Hobber tried to jest. It was just unfortunate the intended victim of his jape was an accomplished knight that had won more tournaments than years he had been alive.

Loras, always the hothead was not willing to take those sorts of insults from him and challenged the Redwyne. "I'm not too scared to knock your ugly hide to the ground and beat that ridiculous attempt at a beard off your face."

The Slobber Twin's face grew pale and he cast his face down. His refusal from the challenge could not have been more blatant unless he had a tail or vine to tuck between his legs. "What is the meaning behind that anyhow?" Garlan asked to try to save his distant cousin from a thrashing.

"What?" Hobber Redwyne asked him in confusion.

Garlan stroked his own beard once more and said. "That sputtering of red on your face. Hoping to keep yourself warm against this northern chill?"

The elder of the two twins rubbed the sparse patches of red that grew on his cheeks and neck. "I'm trying to look more distinguished. Sick of people confusing the two of us."

"So now you'll be the dumb looking one and Horas will be the ugly one. What a grand change you've made. Truly what a well thought out idea." Dickon snickered and slid away before any retaliation from the Redwynes could befall him.

The elder Tyrell shook his head at their childish antics and unstrapped the heater shield from his forearm. "So, what has got you in such a sour mood today, Loras?" While his brother remained ill-equipped since childhood at handling insults, of late, he was a tad bit nastier than usual.

His younger brother had discarded his shield and sword already and was rubbing the swollen spot on his jaw where Garlan's fist had connected. "What else? These impudent northerners have no respect or good sense." They may have been impudent and even uncivil, but Garlan had seen no evidence to their newly lost good sense. "They let their children go about the world like animals and they let their wild animals into their homes."

"What are you on about now?" Questioned Ser Balon with a halfway glance at them. "Someone piss in your oatmeal is that it?"

"They would be a cock shorter if anyone did." Loras shot back with a mailed finger pointed towards the younger boys as a warning. "Did you see what the Stark girl did the night before we left Winterfell?" Garlan did and he would have been a sinner if it did not tickle him to remember it. The girl had a wild side about her and held no qualms about letting the world know it. She had a mean right hook and quite an aim. It took her one quick knee between Lyonal Errol's legs to make him cry out in pain. She followed that with an elbow to the bridge of the nose. The poor man did not even expect it.

"Makes you think about just how quickly joy can turn to agony." ArchmaesterMarwyn had remarked after the fact. It had held his attention for a fair bit of time when he had seen the Stark girl accept Errol's hand to dance. While Lionel was not grotesque or possess any disfigurements, he was not the sort women were likened to swoon over. His ears were tiny, his eyes dreadfully far apart, and his hair had grown thin despite being Garlan's junior. He was not even a strong hand with a sword or lance. Still she accepted his invitation for some reason or another and after their first dance, she ruined his night.

She claimed that he had groped her during the last step and Lyonal, of course, denied it vehemently. Garlan, during the alleged groping, was far more preoccupied with watching the way Lady Mormont had danced or rather carried Donnel Flint around the floor. "I did nothing of the sort." Errol stuttered over his words and held his wounded face. "I swear, my Lords." He emphasized his words greatly when the lumbering Lord of the Last Hearth leered over him with his fists at the ready. Two of Lyonal's friends and his squire pulled him off the floor while Jon Snow climbed down from the high table.

He was not sure which one was telling the truth, and the room seemed to be split on the matter too. Regardless of what truly happened he felt inclined to believe the Stark girl. After all, for what reason would she have to lie and draw attention to herself in that manner? In the end, her bastard brother sent her to her rooms and confined her there until they set off for the Wall, where she had stayed behind. Errol for his part in the affair was forgiven by the Snow and nothing came further. It was likely all for the best, because what could Lord Snow do to him outside of killing him? He had been humiliated in front of every lord and knight in the King's army and was floored by a girl half his weight when soaking wet. Jon Snow had not even allowed her from her rooms to see him and the army off from Winterfell.

"I rather enjoyed that spectacle myself." Chuckled Garlan in an attempt to lighten his brother's mood. "It added some excitement to that last night and got my blood pumping for battle."

Loras, still as sour as before, sneered. "It is not just that. She holds weapons and thinks that she can fight like a man. It is a farce and is embarrassing for her house and is painful to witness."

"Her bastard brother should have disciplined her. Acts like he's in charge and the Lord of Winterfell, so he should actually do the job. Rein her in and make her proper a proper lady." Dickon grunted. He then bit into a juicy apple and the sweet juices dribbled down his face. "Little Rickon Stark thinks it's funny and is afraid of her, I think."

"Such stern things these Northerners are made of." The younger Redwyne twin scoffed. "They let their women order them around. Jon Snow went down to the crypts every day before we left Winterfell. Did you all know that?

"He went down there right after supper too" Added the elder.

Horas Redwyne was always the smarter one of the two, though that did not say much. Garlan Tyrell shook his head in disbelief as the Horror Twin continued. "His savage wife is being stored down there. I figure he must go sit in the dark and cry over her."

From the way he said it, Garlan guessed that the Redwyne found it was something to be ashamed of. He did not know what he would do if he lost his Leonette. "You're still just a child," Loras exclaimed with glazed over eyes of gold. "You've never lost and cannot know what it is to truly lose someone you love. To have them taken from you before their time." It had been left unsaid between the men. If they hoped to keep their hearts from being carved out of their chests, they would do well to imagine that it was Loras' father that he spoke of.

Loras had wanted the Red Witch's head. When Jon Snow denied it to him the two almost came to blows. "Then his daughter." His younger brother had demanded. "She can pay for her father's crimes and his kinslaying. An arrow to the heart was too gentle of a death for him." Garlan had not felt good about taking sides against his brother. It would bring nothing other than harm on their house to demand the killing of the new Lord Baratheon's favorite cousin. Willas would not have risked what they had worked so hard for to be destroyed just so Loras could take vengeance for a man long dead.

"She's already been entombed." Called a voice from high above them in the broken windmill tower. "He was just waiting for her effigy to be finished. A spear in one arm and a babe in the other, I've been led to believe." The King of the Seven Kingdoms told them over the cover of a hard-backed journal that he was reading. His violet eyes left the pages for only the briefest of moments to scan the collection of men below him.

"I thought only the Lords of Winterfell got a place in those tombs. Has that changed or was my maester telling me fibs again?" The heir to house Celtigar asked anyone with an answer.

Aegon's leg slumped out of the window of the ruined tower and he said. "That is the tradition, though I don't think he cares what tradition dictates on this matter.

The Bastard of Nightsong sat beside their King and added. "Would you not want to provide the best resting place possible for someone you loved, Garret Celtigar?"

When the brown-haired youth fell silent the last Targaryen's eyes shut tight. "We'll be leaving soon."

"Leaving? Back to camp or-"

"Castle Black. As soon as the men catch their breath." Aegon explained with his eyes buried in the old leather book. Garlan was sure that he was forgetting something very important, but that would have to wait for the other men's departure. "When we see the truth of these supposed demons from Beyond the Wall we will act accordingly."

"When we learn the truth of their lies and exaggerations what will we do, or what will you do, your Grace?" Asked the Tarly heir with notable humility that sounded very strange from him.

With a loud clap, Egg closed the book and looked down on them. "If they're lying and these monsters are nothing but fables ... then I will hang the Lord Commander. Following that, I will force them to elect a new commander actually capable of the job tasked to him."

"And what if the tales are true?" Wondered the Celtigar, who played with the handle of his family heirloom. Even when a bastard boy in Highgarden, Aegon had a certain attraction towards him. One that left all the prettiest girls awed and boys swayed to his side. The former fourth singer of Highgarden needed only a single conversion with Garret to convince him to seek out and procure his father's axe. Stole may have been a more accurate word, but this was for a noble cause of vital importance and he would not scorn the crab or his pincer for it.

In response, the King let out a small murmur that was lost to the wind.  

"We fight." Stated Ser Balon Swann.

"And you keep that magical axe of yours close at hand, Garret." Japed Ser Humfrey to break the dread that Aegon had brought over the ruins.

With great huffing and puffing to announce his arrival, a red-faced boy with bark-colored hair sprinted to them through a gap in a short wall of stacked stones. He came from the direction of the main camp, which rested far off in the distance along the Long Lake. "Message from Archmaester Marwyn, M'lords. He tasked me with bringing this to the King."

Ser Balon stole the letter from the boy's hand before Garlan could make a move for it. "I'll take that, lad." The Commander of the Kingsguard opened it without a hint of hesitation and read over it quietly to himself. "Get a move on and leave us." He said with barely a glance towards the messenger boy.

"All of you without a white cloak or named Garlan can leave us," Aegon ordered from his high roost. "and take this back to the castle with you and see to its destruction. I want nothing to remain of it." The silver-haired Targaryen threw his book down in the snow. It was picked up by Horror Horas who slipped it under his cloak. Single file, the boys left the windmills yard and mounted their horses. Not until they made it a distance from being able to hear them did anyone speak. "What does it say? What problems could there possibly be now?"

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard turned the paper over, moved to the far wall and handed it up to their King. "You are far too cynical, your Grace."

Aegon slipped down from the window. "They have left Winterfell and are moving at a good pace towards Deepwood Motte."

"Who?" Garlan asked.

Ser Rolland climbed down the steps and overtly put himself between Ser Hightower and the King. "Asha Greyjoy." Humfrey's voice caught in his throat and Garlan's own heart beat a tad faster as well. "She is to help Arya Stark and Lady Mormont reach Lannisport with her ships." The Bastard of Nightsong watched Humfrey with great care, or more specifically his hands.

Following Oldtown's sacking Humfrey had been very animated and prodding on the details of the two Greyjoy siblings and their coming fate. Even now, there was no news regarding his brother Garth, or his father and eldest sister Malora. Ser Baelor, or perhaps Lord Baelor was found maimed but very much alive near Garlan's own keep. Hope was still being held out that Jon Cupps managed to find safety with Leyla and their children. Garlan knew that Euron held no mercy in his heart for anything in life, but he dared not share that truth with Humfrey. Garlan had seen good men break down in grief from things much less horrendous, and his cousin was needed now.

Garlan racked it brain as to what game Aegon was playing at now. For what reason could he want to send the Stark girl of all people with Asha Greyjoy. It was far too risky and if she crossed them and took the Stark hostage she would be lost to them for Gods' know how long. And why Lannisport of all places?

Ser Humfrey hung his head and sucked in a mouthful of air. He then dispelled it and repeated himself several times with clenched fists. "Have I been a loyal servant, your Grace?" The Hightower asked and then took a knee. The Targaryen shallowly nodded his head and looked down at the man with a raised eyebrow. "I asked you for the lives of both Greyjoys for what they did to my house." It was, and still remained, a fair request from Garlan's stance, though not the most strategically sound.

Even with Theon Greyjoy's mind and body broken beyond repair he had some use. All the same, his life was made forfeit to appease both the north and south. While Euron was no man who would shed a tear over a slain kinsmen, it did send a strong message to every lord with traitorous thoughts and their still remaining enemies. "And Theon's life was taken from him."

In their last day at Winterfell, both Greyjoy's were brought to the Godswood. With no pomp or circumstance, Theon was pushed to his knees and bent over a block. "May you find peace in death, Theon." Were the only words uttered before Lord Snow raised his valyrian steel sword high over his head. A graceful arc of steel then struck Theon's head from his body with a single blow. After making his elder sister watch her brother's beheading Lady Asha Greyjoy was brought back to her cells, or so he thought.

The Targaryen man, grown from the little boy sent to squire for him at Highgarden, clasped Humfrey on the shoulder. "Now get up, damn you. I won't have you begging me for what has already been made yours. I swear on everything that I am, and everything I will ever be, that I will make this up to you. I've already entrusted my life and the lives of my future children to you, so if you have any other desire of me, just ask it." Aegon's eyes drifted ever so slightly and Garlan recognized the deep thoughtful pause. It was the same one that Egg and Will were prone to when nothing in the world mattered so much in those few seconds as the whispers inside their own mind. "It's time to go back to camp. We've spent enough time in this frozen ruin and venison stew is being served for supper. We have a long march ahead of us tomorrow and we will all need the rest, my friends."

Without another second wasted, each of the men returned to their mounts and together, they rode over the frozen plains and across the northernmost Kingsroad. The camp looked half like a true city sprung up of colored pavilions, fur covered tents and roaring fires, which staved off the bitter cold. It was on the highest hill overlooking Long Lake that Aegon made his home. Near him did the other lords settle themselves and tie their horses. To the uneducated eye, their combined army looked to number in the millions rather than the paltry seventy thousand. Not since his days in Renly's camp had he seen an army quite so large. Never in his life did he fear a battle as much as he did the one that they could not afford to lose.

Supper that night had been bland and tasteless. The ale was sourer than a lemon and the wine was passed around sparingly. The fires had been warm, though, and the ale, as sour as it was, seemed to have no end. The laughs and jests thrown around that night made for an evening he would cherish unto the end of his days. It almost made him feel a cruel soul that he enjoyed his life so fiercely as he did in those moments. It was a good thing to be alive and it was a good thing to be a capable man of strong arms and stomach. There was only one man that he could be sure was not smiling or enjoying himself that night, and he was the man with the most to lose.

Some moments, he forgot that he was not in the frozen tundra of the North with Willas, and instead was there with the last Targaryen. Always, even in times of joy or celebration, their minds never stopped spinning and working. A victory was never a victory for men like them like it was for other men. They were the thinkers of the world. Garlan knew that he and his house were blessed that Willas was firstborn and not second. Many second and third born sons complained and wished for the life given to the heir. That was not what he wanted, that was never what he wanted.

By the time he felt the exhaustion set in, Garlan found himself following Aegon to his royal pavilion. Before the murkiness brought on by his drink consumed him completely, he felt his King drop him onto a heavily padded seat and drape him with a heavy and toasty warm blanket. It was several times during that night of ceaseless night terrors that he stirred awake and spotted Aegon in several different places than he had left him in before. Other times, his smokey blue egg was nestled close to his chest like a woman would hold her babe to her breast. Whether from a night terror or cold fright he saw many shadowy figures in the tent with him. More times than not, it was one of his father's damned journals that were seated on his lap. One rare time, he strummed a few sorrowful notes on his ornate lute. It was gift carved from Willas' very own hand, adorned with gold engravings and silver strings, that his elder brother gifted him for his thirteenth name day. Garlan was crossed with his brother that he would give him a gift that he would never have been able to match when they were children.

At times, he would be staring out of the tent and towards the Long Lake. Other times, his smokey blue egg was nestled close to his chest like a woman would hold her babe to her breast. Whether from a night terror or cold fright he saw many shadowy figures in the tent with him. More times than not, it was one of his father's damned journals that were seated on his lap. One rare time, he strummed a few sorrowful notes on his ornate lute. It was gift carved from Willas' very own hand, adorned with gold engravings and silver strings, that his elder brother gifted him for his thirteenth name day. Garlan was crossed with his brother that he would give him a gift that he would never have been able to match when they were children.

When the morning light poked through the flaps of the tent and glared into Garlan's eyes he finally felt his senses begin to return. "Do you ever sleep?" He asked his best friend.

"I'm human, aren't I? Of course, I do." Aegon murmured as he spooned a thick white soup into his mouth. As he looked him up and down, Garlan was not sure that he actually did. He had changed clothes, but that was a given. While his eyes never showed any signs of tire, Garlan knew that he had to be, but was just not willing to show it. "There is a bowl for you too."

He clambered up to his feet and stumbled over to the table in desperation for something to keep him upright. "To hurl in I hope? I feel like death walking ... tell me, did Loras hit me in the head yesterday? Because I feel like it."

"The ale smelled sour, you should have just opted for the blackberry wine instead," Aegon advised as if it was not already too late. If he wanted to drink the sickly sweet concoction some lunatic decided to call wine, he would have drunk it. "You called for Leonette last night."

"And what did I say?" Garlan knew that he spoke in his sleep frequently. It was one of the many reasons Loras demanded his own rooms on his eighth name day. Another was his norm of scaring Loras as children while he slept. Some nights, he would hide under his bed and when Loras would get himself nice and comfy, he would grab him by his ankles and pull him from bed pretending to be a monster. Willas liked to blame him for Loras' bedwetting but it was all rubbish. His habit of sleep talking was still one he wished to correct. He wished he could control it, but all of the maesters in Oldtown told his father the same thing. There was no known cure and it would have to be lived with.

"You promised her you would return. You promised her that you would give her a family. You promised her that you would never leave her again." The Targaryen spouted it off like he was reading out a list of supplies. It made Garlan feel rather self-conscious. "Don't worry, you'll keep them all."

"Even a king can't promise that, Aegon. Not even you have complete power over life and death. I am afraid, and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. We are not ready, and we do not have enough men. This will not be enough, and hopeful thoughts will not change that. If we go to the Wall now, we will never return." Garlan knew it in his heart and somewhere inside of Aegon, under that stone-like facade, he knew it too. But there was one difference between them, Garlan would not sit by quietly and go to his death without complaint because of some witch's words. "We do not have enough men."

That cracked his exterior if only for a minute. "We do, I've seen it-"

"How? You've dreamt it? You left the glass candles behind. We need to retreat with all the speed we can muster, and we need to place a spear in every boy's hand that we can find. This is no time for selfishness or heroics anymore. Everyone must do their part to ensure the Seven Kingdom's survival."

Aegon's lips curved into a deep scowl and his voice finally betrayed his real emotion. "No, if we do, the Wall will fall. This is the time, the only time." The Targaryen dropped his spoon into his bowl and stood up from the table. "I promise you, this will not be our end. You just have to trust me. If not for my sake, then for Leonette, and for the children you two will bring into this world. Help me save that future. Help me, help yourself, and help your fellow-man." Aegon's lips tugged upwards into a smile that looked even more foreign on his face. "Do not lose your faith in me."

"You are my King, and you are the Prince that was Promised. I will never abandon you, Aegon." Garlan had never placed much stock or care in the legends of old. It all seemed foolish and like bollocks to him, yet Willas trusted in the readings, and his elder brother was the smartest man he knew. It was Willas who was right in some end. Garlan never believed in magic and mysticism until the day he saw the obsidian burn and Aegon's face melt. Even if he seemed a man under his exterior, Garlan could not be sure after seeing the red dragon hidden under his human face.

His best friend turned from him and placed his hands on a wooden post that held the pavilion. "I can't be sure anymore. My father was sure of the same once, but-"

"How? How can that be? On the day of your birth, a bleeding star streaked through the sky. Every maester of that day recorded the event. It can not be disputed. Willas even remembers being seated on our father's lap and shown it when it streaked through the sky." It made no sense, everyone was sure. Marwyn, Willas, Aurane, Malora, even Varys, in his own way believed him special.

His King seemed the most pained to admit it and could not even look him in the eye as he spoke. "It was to herald the Prince that was Promised. On the day I was conceived, it cut across the sky and showed my father what he always dreamed of. I read that my birth was difficult, even more so than my sister's. I was two weeks early and the maesters all thought both my mother and I would die."

"And you lived."

"And I lived, yet the scars and damage I left on my mother were not ones to ever be healed. It would be her death, should they ever try again, for the third head of the dragon as my father put it." Aegon's voice caught in his throat and his hand balled into a fist of bone clenching anger. "Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it is Daenerys. Maybe it's none of us, or maybe it's all of us." He let out a deep sigh and his shoulders shook.

It made no sense to Garlan and he wondered if it was the drinks he had that were the cause. "Third head?"

"I've dreamt it since I was a child. My sister is dead and I find myself without kin or family. I am the oldest Targaryen still breathing. That, I cannot dispute and so the right to rule is mine. Only mine. Daenerys is the mother of dragons. She birthed salvation into the world, and that, I cannot dispute. The third, the third evades me. Sometimes I wonder if it was meant to be my father. Could Robert Baratheon and his hammer doomed the world?" His composure was then regained if only a little. "The blood of the dragon is drawn so thin, so scattered and weak. In the days of Aegon the Unworthy, the kingdom was flowing with dragon seeds."

"The Martells?" He did not fancy the idea of any Martell becoming his savior. "Edric or Shireen perhaps?" Aegon was right that the blood of the dragon was hard to come by now. Willas seemed to think there were some dubious descendants of Prince Aerion Brightflame in Essos, but so far, none had been found.

"I don't know." Aegon's pretty eyes looked wet and ready to tear up. "No one can know." He sniffled loudly and rubbed his nose with the back of his green sleeve. "Promise me. Not Marwyn nor Willas can ever know. If they did they would doubt, they would second guess. They wouldn't understand, and I just need time. I just need time."

"I promise." Garlan loathed keeping anything from his brother. Things always seemed to take poor turns when he did. This time, however, it had to be kept secret. "Let's finish breaking our fast. I don't want to spend any more time here than we have to. We're riding with Lord Snow today, correct?"

Aegon calmly walked past him and sat back down in his seat like nothing had happened. "We are."

Garlan let out a small chuckle and sat down across from him. "Well, that ought to be fun. You can explain to my horse that Lord Snow's dire wolf won't eat us. Seven hells, if you could make him understand that, ask him to ask Lord Snow how further much longer until we reach the Wall." He dipped his spoon into the tepid clam soup and felt like retching just by looking at it. "He's even quieter than you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the good work, you were a big help this chapter, Ocadioan.


	82. The Black Wind

**Arya:**

 

Deepwood Motte was a modest holding. Modest being a kind word for the disappointment she felt when seeing it for the first time. As a girl, she learned that the Glovers were a house of petty kings in the time before the Andals. Looking upon the simple wooden castle made it obvious just how they had been defeated so easily. It was no Winterfell in any stretch of the imagination. It did sit high upon a dirt hill, which added something to its appeal, she supposed. Circled around it was a dainty village walled off from the surrounding snowy forests by a spiked palisade.

Lady Sybelle Glover had been most welcoming to them and was most generous with the rations that she gave to them for their journey. She even dipped into her own house's meagre coffers to ensure that they did not suffer if it could be at all helped. Arya in return promised the kindly matron that her children would be returned from Ten Towers to her. It did not matter if she had to carry them back to the North herself, they would be returned home. Before they set off to find the hidden Black Wind, Lady Sybelle gave to her a doll of braided horse hair.

"It's my little Erena's favorite, she can't sleep without it. I beg that you return to her, Lady Stark." It was not necessary for her to ask, and without a moment's hesitation, she packed the doll in with her own belongings.

The hospitality of the castle was offered to them for the night if they had need of it. They did not accept the offer on Ser Davos' and Asha Greyjoy's insistence that they set out as soon as possible to avoid the winter storms.

"It will be hard enough to make it back to the Iron Islands. We don't need to waste this clear sky by sipping tea and sewing pretty things." Greyjoy exclaimed with a self-satisfied smirk on her lips after they left the ancient wooden castle.

She had a smirk that rubbed Arya in the wrong way. "You might as well learn to do the last one," Arya had murmured after they found and the hidden Black Wind in a shallow and rocky cove. The Greyjoy woman seemed to have forgotten she was even traveling with her due to the intrigued look that was given. "It might get dull underdeck."

"What makes you think I'll be down there, little wolf girl?" The woman asked without looking at her. "It has been so long since I've seen her." She then ran a hand through her lengthy head of matted hair and examined her craft as she waited for help up the hull.

Arya passed by Asha and pulled herself up the side and onto the vessel. The longship certainly showed signs of wear and decay during the Greyjoy's absence. The deck was rough and splintered in places and the rails moldy and soft. "You didn't think you would be sailing, did you?" Before she could respond, Arya turned and walked away from the rail until she was certain that Asha could not see her from below any longer.

"I've been sailing since I was ten years old. Which one of you frozen Northmen think you can guide my ship better than me?" Demanded Asha with venom laced in her voice.

"There are no Northmen here, you miserable squid." Responded Alysane, who carried a barrel of fresh water on her shoulder. She hefted the barrel over her head and with great strength tossed it onto the Black Wind. "Only me, Arya Stark and five of Bear Island's best warriors." Bear Island seemed such a strange place to Arya the more Alysane told her of it. On Bear Island, the women not only took up arms to defend themselves, but it was encouraged and expected of them to do so. "For hundreds of years, we've been repelling bloody reavers and would-be conquerors from our island. When the men go out to sea for weeks it is us mothers, who are left to swaddle our children and keep them safe."

Amabel, Blue Fern, Helly, Lanna, and short Nolla were Alysane's most trusted companions. "We'll take you to the ends of Asshai if that is where you need to go, Lady Stark." Promised the frosty-haired Helly.

Asha Greyjoy rolled her eyes at Alysane Mormont's words and tried to climb up the ship herself despite her enlarged belly. "And do you plan to sail my Black Wind? Have those bear hands of yours ever touched the wheel of a longship?"

The Mormont woman reached down and plucked Asha off the beach under her arms and placed her down carefully. "They haven't." She admitted and then caught a roll of braided rope thrown on deck by Amabel. "Which is why I won't be sailing."

"Pardon, but that will be my job, Lady Asha." The gray haired Onion Knight explained as he threw one leg over the edge and pulled himself aboard with maester Clement's trunk tied to his back. "Take my hand, maester, it is higher than it looks." Said Davos as he helped pull the young man up the side.

Honestly, Arya would have been happy to leave the chained maester behind. It was his fault that they were three days behind due to his insistent and unending examinations of the Greyjoy. He had argued with both King Aegon and Jon that she should not travel anywhere in her pregnant state. He was certain that she would go into labor any day now, but they did not have time to stop and coddle her every time she felt sore or in pain. Even Asha seemed to be beyond her breaking point with the little mother hen, as she fancied calling him.

"Thank you, Ser Davos." Said the maester as he tugged his chain of office out from under his scarf. "Come, Lady Greyjoy, the floor is slick so take my arm. We need to get you out of this cold as soon as possible for the child's health."

As he reached for her hand, she pulled it away and recoiled from him. "I don't need your help to walk the deck. If you think this is hard, you should brace yourself, little man. A good storm and this deck will be slicker than ice." Asha shot a dirty glance towards Ser Davos, who carefully examined the sails. "And I will steer my own ship."

The Onion Knight glanced at her and bowed his head. "Forgive me, M'lady, but you won't." He untied the trunk from his back and pushed it into Clement's hands. "Take her below deck and make sure she is comfortable and wants not."

"I want to sail my own damn ship." She protested as the maester succeeded in getting her towards the underdeck.

"Body coming up." Declared Blue Fern from the rocky beach. "I'll need some help to get it up."

That made Asha freeze in mid step. She calmly turned and watched as her brother's tightly wrapped body was lifted onto the deck and carried by two Ironborn men. "Be careful with my little brother." She half whispered before turning and following the maester under the deck.

"What do you need me to do?" Arya asked Alysane as the Mormont took one end of the rope and threw it high in the air to Droopeye Dale, who hung off the top of the mast. The Ironborn man was one of the few prisoners released to help them crew the Black Wind. Only a select number of that group of was allowed freedom from their chains, which locked them to their oars. If they were all destined to rest under waves then it would not be from any lack of effort on the reavers' part.

"I need you to keep her occupied and below deck, Lady Stark." Ordered Davos Seaworth, who then helped pull an oarsman up to the deck. "We don't need her up here during a storm and drawing our attention."

"What you mean is that you don't want me up here during a storm." It never seemed to matter whether she acted on the order of a King or the orders of her family. Everyone still thought that Arya Stark needed to be protected like the highborn lady she was supposed to be. She did not need anyone's protection, but regardless of her protests they still treated her like a fragile doll made of glass.

"He means no offense, Arya." Exclaimed Alysane who stopped before her. "But instead of doing our jobs we would be too distracted looking out for you and making sure you were safe. Like it or not, you are King Robb and Jon's youngest sister and I can't help it. We Mormonts have always served the Starks since my house's founding, you know. I will not be known as the Mormont who let a Stark drown because I was too busy tying rope knots."

"I won't drown."

"I don't think you will, Arya, but if you were in my position and standing in my place, but instead wanting to stay on deck, was little Lord Rickon. What would you do?" The She-bear mussed up Arya's loose braid. "I promise that while we're out there and the seas get calm, we'll fish up here together."

"Fine," She didn't want to go. In truth, it was almost impossible to make her legs walk the journey, but in the end, she did. Below deck, the crews sleeping space was as dark as night and smelled foul. In that darkness were only two dim lanterns on each side of the wide interior to somehow guide your footing. Not that she needed to see where she walked. The darkness was a reminder of harder times than even the ones she found herself in now. In the captain's cabin, she found Asha Greyjoy prone in a tiny wooden framed bed, arguing with the maester, as per her usual habit. Sat at a wobbly table was maester Clement, who fiddled around in his supply trunk.

"I don't want your damn poultices." Screamed the Greyjoy.

"But your child does." Shouted back the short man. "Lady Stark, are we disturbing you?" The maester asked as he threw himself from his chair and bowed his head. She shook her head and took a seat on the other side of the room to watch all of the coming battles between them. "Now, this is distilled wheat grass, juiced carrots, and dreamwine. It will settle the babe and give you the relief you wanted." In one hand was his colorful flask and in the other was a funnel.

As the man tried to put the funnel in her mouth, she knocked the flask from his hand. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and its contents were splattered across the floor. "I wanted him to stop kicking. Not for you to dull his senses or mine. Take that bile away or I'll take to the Drowned God with my own hands." The maester sighed and then bent over to pick up the shattered pieces of his flask. "If you can't do that, then at least find me something to eat."

Clement retrieved a green apple from his satchel. As Asha reached out to take it, he slapped her hand away. "Archmaester Teryn studied the effects of pregnancy on women and the best foods for a babe's sake in the womb and concluded apples to be very beneficial."

"Then give me the damn apple, you blasted fool." Demanded Asha.

The man shook his head and tossed it across the room to Arya. "He also concluded that the skins contain harmful nutrients that can increase the risk of malformation to the limbs of a still growing babe. Would you be so kind as to peel it for her, Lady Stark, while I pick up this mess."

"I'm sure if there are any deformities, then they have already happened." Muttered the Greyjoy woman, who then tried to get up from bed. "You said that my child would be coming any day now, so I'm sure he won't mind. Not like he'll be growing again until he stops leeching off my body neither."

"It has not been concisely proven that children ever stop growing in their mother's womb." Declared Clement who jumped up from his squat to force Asha back down into bed. "You stay off your feet and we will get you whatever you need."

Arya had in the meantime finished peeling the apple. Just as she returned her Valyrian dagger to her boot, Asha decided to take real notice of her. "You keep weapons on yourself too, do you? Smart girl."

"I carry more than that." She explained and then walked over to give the expecting mother her sustenance. "See," With a flick of her wrist, needle slid down her arm and she exposed its cold steel for the woman. "It's called needle."

Asha snatched the apple from her hand and took a big bite out of its side. "Needle?" She questioned as the juice ran down her lips. "What kind of child's play toy is that?"

"This is no toy." She defended.

"And yet you named the damn thing." The Greyjoy chuckled and then took another piece out of the fruit. "Is that why you're here? So we can sew together or whisper about what boys we want, or maybe what boys might want to bed us." She snickered darkly and dismissively looked towards the maester.

"We can sew together, but I don't think you'll like how I sew with my needle." Warned Arya. "I think you'd prefer if we just talk or play a game of dice."

The Greyjoy girl snickered and smirked at Arya in the same way she hated. A cocky grin that told the world they knew everything and were better than everyone else. It was the same smirk that her brother Theon had, at least until Jon took his head. "What a brave little wolf girl you are, for testing me. If you want someone to knock your head in and show you what's what, you can come and find me after I birth my child." The Greyjoy shot a glance at the maester and ordered. "I need to piss. Go take a walk."

"Let me help you up-" Maester Clement started.

"No, I'm sure the little Lady Stark can help me up."

Clement's mouth tugged into an ugly frown but he shrugged his shoulders obliged the Greyjoy's request. "There's a chamber pot in the corner, but be careful. I haven't found all the pieces of glass, yet."

After the door closed and they heard him climb up the stairs to the deck, Asha reached into her bosom and retrieved a thin knife from between her breasts. "Don't worry, if I wanted to harm you or anyone else, you wouldn't have known it." Exclaimed the Greyjoy when Arya readied her needle. "This was my first suckling babe. I never wanted to have any other child, but this."

"Where did you get the knife?"

"My father gave it to me after your father and Robert Baratheon stole my brother and took him to your green lands." Asha rolled the blade and then weaved it between her fingers with practiced experience. "I stole it back from that old onion banner flying knight. I would have taken my husband with me if I could have hidden him."

Jon seemed sure that the father of Asha's husband was one of the men they kept locked in the dungeons. Qarl Pyke, or Qarl the Maid as his fellow prisoners seemed to call him. He was a pretty faced man with a light sputtering of blond hair. "Do you love him?"

"More than you could ever know, wolf girl." Admonished Asha with a look of longing in her dark brown eyes. "Or maybe one day, you will. We have been together since I was thirteen years old. We've fought together and I've spilled blood with him. Until Stannis Baratheon and his men came upon me and mine at Deepwood Motte, I had been with him for more years than I had been without him. Can I ask you to see him returned to me?"

"If you fulfill your oath and do as asked, I'll make sure that man is returned to you." Arya knew what is was to miss someone and to long for them. She knew what it was like to be from someone she loved, and how much it hurt to be apart from them every second you breathed.

"Man?" Asked the woman. "I want my axe. When my father once told me that I must marry, I told him that I had a husband and he was the weapon in my hand. He never bores me and is always ready to fight and spill blood." The Greyjoy threw her head back and laughed. "I saw the Onion Knight had it in his belongings and want it back. It's not like I'm in any condition to fight any of you if I wanted. You may as well just let me be happy and reminisce."

Arya chuckled. "Maybe I should tell my brother that." She could see taking needle as her husband, and her own suckling babe was born on a trading while crossing the Narrow sea. Jon should have been proud, it was him who introduced her to her great love.

"The wee child or your pretty bastard brother?" Questioned Asha who roared in laughter as she caught Arya's scowl. "I would not have turned down the bastard had he come to me when I was in my cell. Most of you Northmen make for boring and rough faced people, but you Starks are cut from a different cloth. I'm sure my brother would have fancied taking your maidenhead from you when you grew older." He would have died if he tried. The only question would have been who did the beheading. Robb, Jon, or father would have taken his head before the next dawn if he ever tried, and he knew that.

"My brother is not that sort of man." He wouldn't force any woman against her will. His wife just died and he did not seem in any hurry to find anyone else. Lord Manderly had offered either of his granddaughters to Jon and he had refused them both.

"Every man is that sort of man. If they see something that they like, they take it, whichever way they can. Your brother is no different, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. My brother certainly took things however he could get them."

It angered her that she would compare Theon and Jon of all people. They could not have been different. Theon was a traitor. Her brother Jon was not a thing like him. "Is that what the man who gave you that child did to you?" She was warned to be careful of rapers when traveling on the sea by the captain of the Porchard. Many of them liked to come upon unsuspecting girls while they slept, and put a blade to their throat to keep them silent while they had their way. It was one of the reasons Captain Ben gave the serving girls on his cog their own cabin with a bolt locked door.

"No, Qarl never took me by force. Not that he could, mind you. If he ever did, I would have gelded him in his sleep and thrown his pretty cock into the sea. Qarl may have provided his seed, but it's Stannis Baratheon's fault for the condition you see me in today. I asked him to give me tansy tea. When he said no, I asked his maester, and when he said no, I begged the both of them. Still they made me suffer this ordeal. They wanted to take my child and use him to exert pressure on my family. Hoped he could use that to force his dominion over the Iron Islands."

"Now your child and you are going home," Arya exclaimed.

"Aye, I suppose we are. Though not by any magnanimous will on the part of your brother and that pretty Targaryen. If they didn't need my ship I would still be chained in your Winterfell."

"Jon had nothing to do with it! And you were never kept in chains." She was sick of the lies spread about her brother. Men both, south or northern-born tried to call him an oathbreaker, heretic, or Wildling lover. "Jon didn't want you to do this. He wanted you to stay at Winterfell. It's King Aegon's fault,"

Asha shrugged her shoulders and chuckled at Arya's anger. "Doesn't matter who wanted it. Either way, I'm free and going back home." Her annoying and stupid smirk then returned. "When they first dragged me to the both of them, I certainly had different thoughts on my mind than freedom. If not for my child, I would have gotten whatever I wanted from them."

Clapping her hands over her ears, Arya set off towards the door. If there was one thing she did not want to think of, it was her brother bedding Asha Greyjoy, or him bedding anyone for that matter. Or Gods forbid Jon and stupid Aegon bedding her together. "I'm leaving, I'll send Clement back in to keep you company." She exited the room to an uproar of cackles from the Greyjoy woman.

The next days passed quite similarly. Most days were spent listening to maester Clement and Asha bicker, or she would tell Arya of her past deeds and exploits. The few times she was allowed on deck, it was only to see boring and plain beaches of places she had seen in maps. Ser Davos never had much time to speak with her. Alysane and those that followed her spent most of their time making sure the Ironborn did their jobs and weren't planning betrayal. It was for the best, she had to admit, as the seas had been rougher than even the Onion Knight expected them to be. Below deck she felt like they were inside of a toy boat being rattled by a toddler. The Sunset Sea was restless and threatened to toss the Black Wind into the stony shores many times.

It was as they passed by Flint's Finger that she was stirred awake by maester Clement in a furor. Asha's blood-curdling screams told her quite clearly what the matter was this time. Maester Clement seemed sure that her water had broken sometime in the night while they were sleeping. "It could not have been a worse time," The short maester had muttered constantly as he busied himself.

He was right, and as her feet touched the cold wooden floor, she was thrown back onto her cot by the crashing of waves that beat against the Black Wind. Followed by that was another quick lurch that made her tummy feel like it was flying. "run to the deck and find anyone they can spare." He commanded her, he then threw Asha's furs from her body and situated himself at the foot of the bed between her legs.

It took her a fair bit of time to find the She-bears and force them to go help. When it was all over, Clement claimed that it had been one of the hardest births he had seen in his life. None of the blame went to Asha for once either. Several times during the ordeal, he had been thrown to the floor and was forced to pick himself back up to keep going. "If you carry me up the stairs, I'll sail my Black Wind and give birth too!" Asha had screamed out multiple times after a hard wave crashed against the port. In the end, it sorted itself and her wailing son was placed in her hands. Despite her claim in the days before, she even fed him off her own teat the second he let out his first cry.

How her mother went through five births without going mad, Arya knew not. It was worse than she envisioned it in her mind by a far and wide margin. The thought of her sister going through half of what Asha went through made her wonder if Sansa would even consider more children. Arya, for a short time even held the little dark-eyed babe in her arms before Asha demanded him back to his rightful place by her side. "He's too small, he may not last the night." The maester told Alysane when they were out of Asha's earshot. Alysane heard none of his complaints and was convinced the boy was fine and healthy despite the maester's fears.

It was halfway through the night that a great cracking noise rang throughout the craft. Arya would have been remiss if she claimed that it did not scare her. Despite the maester's pleading and begging, Asha threw her covers off and tried to stand up from her birthing bed. "Help me, Arya." It was a command, and not a question. Without hesitation, Arya did as the new mother commanded and offered her body for the Greyjoy to lean on.

With dangerously shaky legs, the Greyjoy, who was dressed only in a thin gray shift, walked with Arya's help to the cabin door. The wet and slick stairs were the hardest part of their journey to the surface. "Quiet, my sweet," Asha begged her flailing and screaming babe as they climbed the seemingly endless stairs.

The deck of the ship was a sight of nothing but chaos. Blood and saltwater pooled on the boards of the ship that night. The fog was thick as cream and cloaked everything that passed farther than her arms reached. As they worked their way to the back of the Black Wind and passed by the Ironborn, she seemed to remember many more men working the oars than she saw at their stations that night. The sky above them was masked in cloudy white fog and the rain felt like stone pebbles when they hit her head. The dark waves were as cold as ice, and as powerful as a hammer when they flooded over the side and beat against her body. "You both should be below deck." Screamed Davos after he saw them appear from the fog and make their way towards him. "It's not safe up here."

"It won't be safe down there if you let the sea sink us." Asha shot back as she stopped next to the smuggler turned knight. "Move out of the way! It's obvious you need my help and don't know what you are doing."

"To be honest with the three of you, I've never sailed a longship before, but you need to be able to stand to steer a longship just the same as on any other ship." Said Ser Davos, who intently stared out through the fog ahead of him. If he saw anything, or even could see anything, Arya knew not. Before Asha could say a word, another stray wave hit the stern and sent tremors through their bodies. If not for holding onto the wheel, both of them would've fallen to the bloodstained deck. "I'm doing the best I can. It doesn't quite have the mobility my own ship had."

"What did you sail before, Onion Knight?" Asked Asha, as she pulled her babe's wrappings tighter around him.

The Onion Knight seemed remiss to answer and kept his silence until a bolt of lightning cut deep through the fog not five yards from the Black Wind. "A sailboat, and after that a galley when I was made a knight."

"Hold him," She demanded as she thrust her rosy-cheeked boy into the white haired man's arms. "don't let anything happen to him or I swear on all the fucking Gods, I will bring this ship down under the waves to the Drowned God myself." Asha took her arm off Arya's shoulder and leaned heavily on the wheel to keep herself standing. She stood barefoot and was thinly dressed in the heart of the storm, and from the way her eyes drooped Arya was not sure how she was conscious. Despite it all, her arms never stopped moving and spinning the wheel. "Now this is life." Asha roared out in laughter. "What good is an adventure without setbacks and hardships."

"I've seen six men fall overboard and my first mate has gone missing." Davos soberingly told her as he held her babe under his cloak to keep him somewhat dry. "You can hardly stand, and I think we may have lost our anchor."

Asha gave the loudest cackle her tired body could muster. "That just means we won't be stopping, Ser. We should make it to Ten Towers quicker than expected, shouldn't we?" A cutting wind came from the west and tilted the Black Wind dangerously on its side. "Full sails!" She screamed over the loud whistling of the wind. Several men in sight rushed to follow her command at the worst moment. One appeared to have been carried off by the wind and into the mist to never be seen again. The second man lost his footing going down from the quarter deck and cracked his head open on the bottom.

Asha tried to give the command again, but she was drowned out by a blade of lightning which cut open the fog and lit up the black night sky like it was a candle. A cracking of wood then echoed through the ship which emanated from the prow.

"Rogue wave, hold on!" Roared Alysane Mormont, who threw her tree trunk like arms around the mast. Arya hardly had time to look at the coming wall of saltwater. It was faster than anything she had ever seen before in her life. It smashed into the side of the vessel and she briefly lost her footing before it tossed her through the air. As she came down she landed hard on her shoulder. The Black Wind, in turn, lurched hard as Asha fought with the sea to keep it from claiming them. As Arya tried to climb back to her feet, the Black Wind jerked again and tossed her overboard.

The sea had a certain beauty to it, a violent and cruel beauty that was as deadly as it was alluring. One that wanted her life, if she would only fall. It was a dark blue vista with a misty frosting like that of a sweet cake. "Give me your hand!" Screamed Ser Davos from above her. She did not know how or when she caught herself on the hull, but she did, and she was alive.

Under them, the waves never gave up their pull, and from the side of her vision, she spotted Amabel's auburn head for a moment before the waves took everything that remained of her to their murky depths. Dark black tendrils reached out to them from below the waves and circled around the vessel like a noose. Slowly, ever so slowly, they snaked their way towards her, but she would not die here. She knew she couldn't die. It was too soon. Her arms stung and burned like her muscles were lit on fire, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear she had of the watery death in store for her if she did not keep climbing.

"Pull me up." She begged her Onion Knight savior, who, with a great growl of strength, hefted her back onto the deck and held her close. "Thank you." She whispered over and over to the man. "I saw something, under the waves. It was reaching for us."

Ser Seaworth edged cautiously over to the edge and peered down at the waves for a collection of mere seconds that felt like years to her. "Good to see you still with us, wolf girl." Declared Asha who steered the wheel with one arm, and in the other, she held her suckling boy to her bared breast. "I would have hated to lose you to this storm's last gasp. It would have been shameful of you to die from that little tide."

Arya scooted on her bum over to the edge of the ship again and looked down deep into the foamy waters. "Nothing," It was impossible, she knew she saw something.

"The sea can be as cruel as any man in this world." Stated Asha as her knees began to shake like a newborn calf. "What you saw was the Storm God come to claim your life, and good on you to deny it to him. He's taken enough from us this night." Then finally, the Greyjoy woman sunk to her knees and nearly collapsed. "The helm is yours again, Ser Onion Knight. Try not to sink her. I think the wolf girl and I have had enough of life up here for tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the good work again, Ocadioan.


	83. Under the Shade of Gold

**Tyrion:**

 

"Light, M'lord!" Screamed a lanky boy before he broke off from the formation into a full on sprint towards the cave's exit. "Finally." Exclaimed another mustachioed man who walked beside Jaime's horse.

He would have been remiss if he did not perk up himself when he felt the cold breeze run through his body. The air felt so clean and delicious in his lungs when he breathed it in and out. It tasted like the finest of the Arbor's wines and there was no end to it. The darkness of the damned caves shrunk farther and farther away the closer they went to the fresh air. In those caves, life seemed so bleak and lifeless.

"About fucking time." Exhaled the Braavosi Commander of the Bright Banners. "If I had to spend one more night in darkness and breathe in that musk I would have dashed my brains out on the walls." Tyrion rather felt the man's own odor was worse than anything he had found in the cave. His surcoat was stained and the serpent on his chest turned from a gold to green.

"And if I had to listen to you say that one more night and still not act on it," Replied Bronn. "I would have done it for you."

"Now, now, we've survived and we don't need to kill each other. We will have plenty of targets for our pent up aggressions soon." Said Tyrion.

"That better include pretty girls of leisure with cunt hair the color of my purse." Smirked Harlys Foros.

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders and gave the man a cheeky grin. "What else did you presume I meant, my friend?"

"I would prefer a good hot meal and a bath." Murmured the Blackfish before he kicked his horse into a brisk trot towards the cave's mouth. "And for those idiots not to give away our position."

"He's right." Sighed the Commander of the Bright Banners who then stopped his mount and blocked the army. "All of you, we're stopping here for now. Until we get an idea of what is waiting or not waiting for us out there, we will stay put." He dismounted and handed the reins off to one of his underlings.

"Pod, keep a strong hand on the reins," Tyrion commanded his squire before climbing down from his personalized saddle. "We won't be long."

Together the three men exited the cave and came upon a steep hill overlooking a green plain covered in cold frost. The fields were already picked clean and frozen over and the small village that tended to the fields looked shut-in for the night. From the chimneys, smoke plumed out and steamed in the cold air. Standing tall over the village was a tower feared by every sane man, woman, child, and even beast in the Westerlands. The three dogs of house Clegane still flew high on Clegane's Keep. Even with its master dead, Tyrion felt a sense of dread just by looking on it.

It was an evil place his uncle Gerion once told him. The spirits of those slaughtered in its halls haunted it and its servants, but nothing living nor dead had the courage to take vengeance on Ser Gregor.

His first wife was a homely little thing, meek and shy, but kind enough. Rumors following her death claimed that her cries while he took his right as her husband annoyed him, and so he crushed her throat with his bare hands. The second wife was the daughter of a wealthy pearl merchant in Lannisport. Tyrion's own father introduced Ser Gregor and the girl's father in his own castle and suggested the match himself. The poor girl lasted hardly a week before the Mountain cut her and her elder brother in half with his greatsword. He claimed that she and her brother were poisoned by his enemies. Their father followed in their fate when he came to seek his vengeance.

Ser Gregor's young sister was the worst of the tales. She was tall for her age of twelve, and despite her father and brother, she possessed a true kindness and light about her. And a week before her thirteenth name day she died of a chill that broke her neck. When drunk, he would boast of raping her before he twisted her head off her shoulders.

"It looks half deserted." The Blackfish whispered from a crouched position behind a stack of fallen trees. "Look at the stables, look at the wood they have left to keep them warm. I don't think the men have been here for a long time." From what Tyrion could see from the great distance away, the stables appeared devoid of life and the hay looked molded. The stacked wood also looked dangerously low for a village with a long winter ahead of them.

"Should be easy then." Examined Bronn, who slid his knife out from its sheath. "I count only one man outside of that bloody tower, and likely not much more inside."

"We will need to move quickly. And as discreet as possible. We are only an hour's walk from Lannisport. If they see any signs of attack or trouble here, the city watch will lock the city down and send for help."

"And all of our efforts will be wasted." Added the Commander of the Bright Banners. "If we're going to do this, we need to be quiet and quick. This job will require tact and guile,"

Tyrion edged closer to the hill and watched closely as a midwife exited her home to empty her chamber pot into the street. "So can you do it?"

"Of course." Boasted Harlys with true conviction. "We'll have those pig farmers and goat fuckers subdued before the cocks crow. The only question I have is if you want to preserve those guardsmen inside?"

They had chosen their deserved fates long ago by serving Ser Gregor Clegane in life and following his death. Tyrion would not mourn their deaths and would not even remember them by supper. "Kill them if you desire. Spare every villager you can and take all the children you find back with you into the caves. Threaten to hang them if the villagers don't act naive and remain calm."

That seemed to gain the Braavosi some of his enthusiasm back and with a noticeable pep in his step he turned back towards the caves. "I'll get my lads ready. The last time I had to do something like this, I still remembered how many people I'd killed and women bedded."

"Do you want me to go with him?" Bronn asked.

Tyrion shook his head. "No, I have a better job in mind for you. One that will pay better."

"Well, now you're speaking words I like."

"You won't like it so much after I tell you what it entails. I can promise you that." He snickered as he pushed off his knees and scrambled back to his feet. "Get a good breath of fresh and clean air while you can."

True to his word, Harlys Foros and his Bright Banners had the town under control well before the sun rose in the east. Nearly three dozen children, both girls, and boys, were carried into the caves and kept under close watch. The mothers and elderly were left to attend to their daily tasks as long as it did not take them out of the village.

Five men were killed in Clegane's Keep, all but one of them in their sleep. Every one of the men they could fit in the tower took up residence in those halls and Tyrion himself sat in Ser Gregor's colossal seat. Though he could not work up the courage or stomach to sleep in the man's bed. The servants of the keep seemed well beaten down and broken into their roles. The clumsy gropes and feels suffered on them from the men seemed a welcome relief to whatever they lived through in the days past.

The next two days were spent bent over a war table working with his council on new maps. It had been nearly a decade ago that he saw the layout for the cisterns and sewers of Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Working off of memory, he drew up as many maps and charts as he could for the next stage of his plan. "You will lead them into the city and organize them wherever they need to be," Tyrion explained to the Blackfish who seemed taken aback by the thought of trudging through the shit and piss of Lannisport. But if it meant he would free Edmure from his captivity then it was worth it. "If it helps, you can remind the men that my father could shit gold. It might help."

Casterly Rock would be much harder to take than Lannisport. The sewers would again be their way in, but while the sewers of Lannisport were mostly flat and easy to follow. In Casterly Rock, most parts of the piping were steep and slick from years of human waste. In order for Bronn and those he trusted to make the climb, they would have to scale hundreds of feet up through tunnels of shit.

Harlys Foros and his Bright Banners would be left to tend to Clegane's Keep. When the time came, he and his men would torch it, and it would be the greatest beacon the Westerlands had ever seen. If his plan was to work, he needed the City Watch of Lannisport to leave the city to combat the blaze. They were trained soldiers. Compared to the watches of Oldtown and King's Landing, they knew how to fight, and he would not risk combating them. Ser Hugh Lannett and his kin still had their family estate behind the walls, and with him in chains, the city watch would lay down their arms and surrender in short order. It would be the Blackfish's duty to capture the man and keep the city under control.

"And what will I do with the little shit that they crowned?" Bronn asked Tyrion after he painstakingly explained every step to them in great detail.

"You must take him captive. We need him to publicly surrender and to send ravens to all of the houses barring arms against us. Some may still oppose, but with their 'King' captive and his crown removed they will have no real cause remaining to stand behind. They will either submit or the truth of this farce of a rebellion will be known. In one move, they will destroy what remains of their houses. With Casterly Rock under our control, the Leffords will finally be able to join their armies to ours."

"The Kenning's of Kayce are not far away either, and they still have not chosen a side." Reminded the Blackfish, who learned and attempted to memorize each and every tunnel and where they lead to under Lannisport.

Tyrion had very nearly forgotten about the Kennings. Outside of naval conflicts they usually never gave much of themselves to conflicts of the realm. During the War of Five Kings, they hardly spent a quarter of their full strength and numbers. "Lord Terrence is a prudent and cautious man. My father always hated him as he knew just how little he could give and do without offending or being accused of wrongdoings." When taxes of the realm came due, he never failed to be the first to deliver his share. He never took loans and never emphasized himself or his family unless it truly suited only him. His uncle Kevan always thought them untrustworthy due to the Ironborn blood that ran through their veins. "If we send a letter after taking Casterly Rock and threaten to burn and sack his island, he will send something to assist us." How useful they would be was impossible to know.

"Fair Castle doesn't seem too far away from them and they haven't chosen a dog in this fight." Bronn wondered aloud. He then traced his fingers over the only castle that rested between the Crag and Fair Castle. "I didn't see the Lord of Castamere's name on that declaration of war neither."

"Rolph Spicer deserves the end of my sword. He betrayed my nephew, he betrayed his own kin and broke all of his oaths along with the Westerlings. If you think I will make peace with them, you've lost your bloody mind. King's peace or no King's peace I will never ride together with them." Angrily declared the Blackfish.

"It's not like they have any levies to spare us anyway. If they offer their support I'll happily take their wealth from them. Gold and silver and spices will be the price they pay." Tyrion did not like trusting the Westerlings or the up jumped Spicers, but he could not afford to be picky now. "We cannot burn all of the family trees in the Westerlands. Many, yes, but not all. I will not turn my vassals' lands, or my own people's lands, into a pyre for your King. Robb Stark was your king, never mine. If you desire the taste of Westerling and Spicer blood, then by all means you may appeal to King Aegon for it. With his permission, we were sent here to free your nephew and reclaim my lands. And only with his permission will I attack families still neutral to us."

House Westerling was a greedy house that had fallen on hard times in the last half century. They betrayed the Stark boy for gold and wealth, not for any personal animosity. If they dared to strike him next then he would make sure they remembered good and well that he was Tywin's son. If they were wise, they would remember that it was he who killed him. If it was coin and status they wanted for themselves, and he would give it to them if they played their part to keep the peace, and may they choke on it.

The Blackfish stood up from the table so quickly and ferociously that his chair tipped over and smashed off the stone floor. "Aye, Aegon is our King, but you are his Hand. You have the power to act in his name if the situation calls for it, and this certainly is the time for it."

"And if King Aegon had a different mind on their fate, I would be the one left holding their heads. I won't dishonor myself to sate your bloodlust, good Ser."

Ser Brynden Tully's disappointment was written plainly on his face. "As you say, Imp. As soon as our business concludes here and my nephew Edmure is free of his captivity, know that I will demand to our King that he give me my justice."

"You may do that if you like. But know that it is a fool who makes demands of anything from a King, be it a piece of bread or justice, Ser Tully." Tyrion watched closely as the grizzled old Trout's fists balled up. "Do be careful to remember that you swore an oath to serve King Aegon. He forgave your family for your treason once, and he does not forgive anything twice."

"Oh, I will," The Blackfish reached onto the table and took the maps of Lannisport's cistern system with him. "I will get justice for my niece and Robb whether King Aegon Targaryen gives it to me or not. I was the fool to expect anything resembling justice or honor from a Lannister." Without waiting for further word the old Trout walked from the room.

"He could be a problem." Muttered Bronn, before he took a gulp from his horn of ale. "What do you want me to do."

Tyrion knew what the former sellsword was leading to. Two mouthfuls of ale did not stop him from battling with himself. "Nothing other than what I've already told you. Tully can do what he wants. If he is willing to hang himself with his commitments and love for a dead man, let him. For all I know, Aegon will give him what he desires and he will be removed from our hair."

"You Andals are all alike. You prioritize the immaterial and nonexistence over the things that truly matter. What does duty matter without due reward? What's chivalry when life is so much fun without it? What's honor worth when you're dead?"

"As much as a horse." Tyrion japed to himself. "If life could be lived for nothing but desires and wants, it would be simpler. While I do like drinking good wine, it does always seem to taste better after earning it." He turned to look at Podrick who stood meekly in the corner like a decoration of the room. "Pod, start writing letters to all the houses still not declared for or against us. When we take back Casterly Rock, we will need to send them out on the first wind. It is high time this short-lived Kingdom come to its end and I receive what should have always been mine." He hoped that from his seat in hell, his father had a good look at what was about to happen. Not Jaime, and certainly not Cersei, could ever have accomplished what he would do. For the first time in its storied history, Casterly Rock would be conquered and it would be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great work again, Ocadioan.


	84. Harlaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was short so I decided I'd spoil you great guys.

**Arya:**

 

The sight of the island Harlaw was a welcome relief to the inhabitants of the Black Wind. Some of the crew called the island home, and even the ones who didn't yelped and cheered for it all the same. Some had wanted to make a landing at Blacktyde. Even Ser Davos thought it best that they resupply and try to patch up the damage the ship had withstood. Asha, however, argued that other than Pyke, Blacktyde was the worst place they could go. "We would be better in the hands of the Drowned God than those who follow my uncle Euron."

"Is that your uncle's island?" Arya asked the Greyjoy women as they neared a dingy and deserted port.

Asha hugged her babe closer to her body and leaned on the rail of her ship to get a better look. "Aye, my better uncle Rodrik. He's my mother's elder brother." She grimaced a tiny bit as they got closer. "It looks more deserted than I remember."

The tiny hovels that sprung up around the docks did seem empty. No animals or even any signs of any life could be seen. Weeds grew between the cobbled roads and doors were left hanging open. "What is this place called?"

"Harridan Hill," The Greyjoy explained and then pointed to an ugly crooked tower that stood above the village. "and that there is its hall. Last time I was here, my uncle Rodrik's cousin owned it and that village. Boremund supported me during the Kingsmoot. Looking at his home now, I can't say if he still even draws breath."

Even when the longship docked, not one person in the town came to greet them. It was by all purposes abandoned and deserted. After the ship was locked down by ropes, Arya wasted little time before hopping down from the Black Wind and dropping to her knees to kiss the ground. Fourteen of the thirty Ironborn that set out with them from Deepwood Motte had perished. Both Amabel and Lanna were lost to the waves during the journey, and she mourned them the most. The remaining Ironborn did similar in turn to her. "Never in all my life have I faced a storm like that." Exhaled Cromm from beside Arya.

The Black Wind was cracked nearly down the entire starboard. During the last days of the journey, they were forced to bucket a seemingly endless amount of water from the hull. "Miss your green lands already, wolf girl?" Jested Asha who stood beside her.

"Yes," It was the worst mistake she felt she had made in a long time. She wished she had the energy to fight with the woman, but her stomach was still spinning. "How is he?"

Asha looked down at the little bundle in her arm and smirked. "Just peachy. Not many Ironborn can say they were born in the heart of a storm. Fewer men can say they survived that storm." On cue her ruddy-faced babe gurgled out a spit bubble and pulled on her pinky. "Again?" She questioned.

"We need to find a wet nurse for the boy." Declared maester Clement as he passed by them. The man poked his head into the nearest house and without hesitation walked in. "You have a fever and we don't need to expose him to your illness."

"I've had it for two days and have been feeding him for seven. If he is at any risk he has already caught it." Asha made a point to touch her babe's head when the maester exited the home. "And look ... no fever."

"Not yet, and pushing one's luck when it comes to diseases and illnesses is never wise, Lady Greyjoy." The man held up two silver coins and approached the next house. "I see no signs of struggle. It looks like they simply left in a hurry." He came back out of the second house and took Asha's babe from her and began rocking it. "They took all of their food and left most, if not all, of their valuables. Do you know where they could have gone?"

"No," Asha shook her head and looked up at Harridan Hall. "That tower isn't big enough to hold all of this village if they slept on the floors. If they went somewhere, it isn't anywhere near here."

"Well, someone has noticed us," Alysane announced as she leaped off the Black Wind and drew her gray steel cudgel. From the bottom of the hill, Arya spotted four men seated on shaggy long haired ponies who rode towards them. "Friends of yours?"

The Greyjoy woman pulled the maester and her child behind her. "I don't know." She retrieved her dagger from her bosom and escorted Clement back to the ship.

"They're armed, I say we receive them in kind." Davos said from the deck of the ship and tossed down several whaling spears, which the Ironborn crew armed themselves with. "Go back to the ship with the maester, Lady Stark."

The Onion Knight climbed down from the hull of the ship and tried to pull her back. "There's only four of them." She replied and pushed his hand off of her shoulder. "The more of us they see armed the less they'll want a fight."

"Or the opposite is just as likely." Replied the She-bear with a determined grin. "Stay close to me if you are sure you want to stay."

"State yourselves and your business." Boomed a stout man who rode at the head of the pack of four. "This here port is closed. We aren't accepting trade or commerce." On his surcoat was several nooses and tied to his shoulders was a sable cloak that hung below his steed's rear.

"Have you really forgotten me and my ship already, Pinchface?" Asked Asha.

The man seemed to recognize her voice and showed a crooked and menacing smile. "I should have recognized her. She was once a beautiful and proud ship before your father wasted her on you. Just look at the state you've left her in, you stupid wench. The way your father let you strut around insulted us all. If he would have had any more wits than a fucking rock, he would have beaten enough sense into your head that you remembered your place."

"Jon Myre, it seems to me that your own father beat your head in far too much. It takes a lot of bravery and courage to insult a dead man, if my father was still alive we both know you would not have enough balls to even think those words." Asha shot back and her words were accompanied by the chuckling of her own men.

"And there is that petulant mouth I remember so well. Shame those Northerners didn't sew it shut. Though that's for the best. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to shut it with my cock." Sneered the leader of the Ironborn before he dismounted from his pony and drew his sword. The three who were with him followed his actions and dismounted too.

"By all means, bring your cock over to me and we'll see where things lead to, shall we?" Asha grinned as she flashed her dagger and held the edge against her thumb. "No better gift could I give your salt wives than to geld you and feed your prick to the goats."

The man held his hand to his belly and laughed raucously at the top of his lungs. "That would be quite a meal, with the size of my cock, it would feed all the pigs and goats in our Isles and leave leftovers." He wiped a line of spittle from his lips and took a step closer. "Your husband, Erik Ironmaker, will be more than overjoyed to see you. No doubt he's been eager to finally consummate the marriage."

"He'll have to stand to do that. And I've never seen his cock, thank the Drowned God, but it will have to be longer than a pike to poke out from beneath his belly."

Pinchface silently contemplated her words and took another step closer. "All the same, he is your husband and is entitled to an attempt. Two of his great-granddaughters are pretty enough, and I'll take them as my price for bringing you to him." The man's dirty green eyes scanned over all of them, but they stopped on Arya herself for longer. "So very considerate of you to bring a gift to make up for your absence. This one's pretty and young too. Maybe I'll just take her myself."

Before Arya could reply, Alysane dropped her massive bear-like arm around her shoulder. "And what about me? Am I pretty or young enough for you?"

"Maybe if I don't look at you, you'll be a good enough hole." Murmured the Ironborn man. "What are you, this little one's protector?"

"Aye, I'm the bear who guards this fair maid's chastity. When she was a babe I stole her from her father's home and kept her in my cave to lure weak men to my lair so I could feast on their hearts." Alysane explained as she raised her cudgel from behind Arya's back.

"I want to see my uncle Rodrik and I need a wet nurse, Jon." Announced Asha Greyjoy.

"And I want you all to shut your mouths. King Euron has offered the Arbor and the big titted Redwyne maiden to the man who brings you to him. I've always wanted a big fucking island, and you are how I will get what I want." The Ironborn man looked down at the screaming boy in Clement's arms and spat. "That babe yours?" Asha nodded hesitantly and the man called Jon moved towards him. Before he could get anywhere within reach, the Black Wind's crew raised their pikes at him.

Davos Seaworth drew his own sword from its scabbard and said. "We have you outnumbered and this doesn't need to end in violence."

"What if violence is what I want? What if I want to mount each and every man's head on a stick and drown you on the beach. What if I want to fuck that little one there until she is bloody?" His followers all drew their weapons and walked closer to support him. "What if I want to drag that little bitch by her hair and her screaming whelp all the way to Pyke? What the fuck will you do if I want all of that?"

"You'll die," Arya answered just before a man with dueling blue scythes on his chest planted an axe in the back of Jon Myre's head.

"I was sick of his never-ending mouth weeks ago. Never stopped chattering or bragging even when he slept or took a piss." Stated one of the Ironborn, as he wrenched his weapon free from Jon Myre.

Asha parted through her men and clasped the Harlaw emblemed man on the shoulders. "I was surprised to see you taking his lead." She then spat on the man's corpse. "Is this no longer your castle and lands, Boremund?"

"In name only. Fucking Euron never forgave or forgot those who didn't support him in the moot. All of us who support Rodrik are not welcomed in most parts of the Isles any longer. Nearly all of his new conquests in the Reach have been given to those who voted for him or those whose loyalty he could buy. Stupid bastard thinks that he's managed to sway Harras away by giving him Greyshield." Explained the Harlaw as he pulled the dead man's sable cloak from his shoulders and threw it over Asha.

"Where did this village go?"

"If you're wondering where my people have gone, you'll have to ask bloody Damphair. That madman has been preaching to everyone who will listen that Euron is no true king and is trying to make his own damn army. While we were all away, he went and led the peasants to the Grey King's Hall to vote on our next true king, whatever the shit that means."

His words brought silence to the Greyjoy for a short while. "I need to see my uncle."

"I can bring you to him, but for your safety and your child's, you may not be able to stay. The peace between Euron and Rodrik is only maintained because Rodrik concedes to whatever he wants. If Euron demands you handed over to him, we both know Rodrik won't give you up without a fight. A fight that we can't win right now without men to fight."

"I'll return tomorrow," Asha said to the Onion Knight, and added before he could protest. "My ship won't be able to take you to the Westerlands in its current state and every reaver in the Iron Islands knows it. When I return, I'll have a new ship and a crew that will take you wherever you need to go."

"And what's to stop you escaping from harm's way and then sending men to capture us? You'd have your child and you would be home free." Ser Davos said.

"I suppose you'll just have to trust me," Asha snapped her fingers and her Ironborn came to her side and they turned their weapons on them. "Boremund, do you have anyone you can trust to keep them safe and these fine Northerners untainted?"

Boremund Harlaw nodded his head and pushed one of his own men forward. "My son, Ralf. He knows his manners and when not to disappoint his father."

"And you'll be coming with me, maester Clement. In case my child catches fever like you feared," Asha told the man. On her command, Fingers grabbed the maester by the arm and dragged him along. "Make sure my brother is brought with us. We'll see to it he receives a proper burial and my mother sees him one final time."

By sundown Asha and most of her crew had departed south for the Ten Towers. Ralf Harlaw was quiet and stoic for the most part. He spoke only when spoken to and accommodated their requests for food or water. Other than Ser Davos, none of them talked to him much. Instead, they simply listened to the stories of the battles he took part of in the Four Shields. He told of the women stolen, the treasures gained, the men killed, and the sacrifices they made.

"For every man we drowned in honor of the Drowned God, King Euron made ten for his own darker gods and sorcerers." Declared Ralf over the crackling fire and horn of black ale. "With the treasures he claimed in Oldtown, he can control the seas. He's forsaken our God in service to nothing but his endless ambition now. Sent away the Ironfleet with Victarion to some dragon breeding bitch in hopes of stealing her beasts for his own. Claims he will give us the whole world, but he won't give us anything he doesn't want himself."

"What did he find in Oldtown?" Arya asked him.

The willowy Harlaw looked at her and licked his lips. "What didn't he find? He took thousands of books, caches of ancient treasures, and many salt wives. The one and only thing that eluded him was a single man. We tortured some Tyrell boy for three days until he could hardly keep his eyes open. He told Euron everything he wanted to know and more by the end. Told him truths, told him lies, told him anything to make it stop." He downed the rest of his horn and slammed it down into the dirt.

When Ralf stood up to leave for bed, Arya stopped him. "Who was the man?"

He belched out and then stumbled over in inebriation. "Some maegi fellow, Martyn, or Merry."

"Marwyn?"

Ralf scratched his head and nodded. "Aye, that was it." He continually staggered away until he ducked into an abandoned hut to rest for the night.

"Forgive me if I am mistaken, but is that not King Aegon Targaryen's maester?" Ser Davos asked.

Arya nodded her head. "It's a good thing he's going in the opposite direction."

The Onion Knight stroked his white beard and poked at the fire with his other hand. "Well, you should get some sleep. I'll stay up and keep watch."

She found her way to the deserted hut that Alysane and her companions chose as a refuge for the night. "Are any of you awake?" She asked. Not that anyone seemed to hear her over Alysane's deafening snores. Arya found her sleeping space by the lone window and made it as comfortable as a rotted bag filled with grass could be. Tossing and turning the whole night was the only rest she could find that night. By the time the dawning sun peaked over the waters, she had snuck out of the hut and passed by Davos, who long ago fell asleep beside the coals of their fire.

"Ser Davos," She called out for the man and in response he groaned and rolled over, mumbling something about crabs. It would be a simple task in removing the seal on the King's letter to the Imp, but keeping its integrity. Something heated up, like a blade or strip of metal, under the letter to soften the bottom of the wax and it would slide right off.  
  
Knowing the contents of a man's correspondence could be as good as knowing the contents of their heart or mind, the Kindly Man once told a girl. No one would know if she was careful enough. If careless, the whole parchment could go up in flames or the seal would melt beyond recognition. Would either man truly care if she read it? Would they be able to do anything, was the better question, she felt. Would she even let them know if she did read it? I went through the effort of bringing it to him, I should be able to read it. She rationalized to herself. But now was the not the time to read it. She would need privacy that she did not have here.  
  
"Good morning, Lady Stark." Davos yawned. "Is anyone else up?" He questioned as she hid the letter behind her back and slid it into the waist of her breeches.

"No, everyone else is still sleeping." She took the spot opposite of him and acted tired. "Looks like she kept her promise after all," Arya stated to the Onion Knight as she spotted a train of mules coming up over Harridan Hill. "I'll go wake them up." Hopping off the balls of her feet, she ran into the dark hut and woke the women up. Helly was the slowest of them, and by the time their replacement vessel arrived, she was still wiping muck from her eyes.

Salted meats, apples, citrus, a few loafs of brown bread, and a skin of wine for every crewman were given over by the generosity of house Harlaw. The Hooktail was a smaller ship than the Blackwind. It had no underdeck, but it was double sailed and had more oars for mobility. "Fly these until you get to the Westerlands." Advised a bald man to Ser Davos, who stood even taller than Hodor. "These are dead Jon Myre's sails, and you should be left alone by any of the patrols out there." Rolled up under one of his massive arms was the noose adorned cloth, which he then handed off to a half dozen of the crewman. "Take care to remove um' before you pass by Fair Isle. These will help you get past there." With his other hand, he passed off the second sail. "My great something captured it from some long dead Kenning after he killed him and claimed his daughter as a salt wife."

"Be safe out there, wolf girl," Asha said as Arya prepared to climb aboard the Hooktail. "I'd hate to see something bad happen to a smart girl like yourself."

Everything bad that could happen has already happened. She wanted to say but decided not to. "You be safe here. And keep that little boy safe and warm. He's had quite the adventurous beginnings to life already."

Asha chuckled and held her babe up higher, so he could see her. "He is my son after all. He's a Greyjoy. Maybe one day, we will meet again. If you still have any desires to see a side of the world only we Ironborn see, come and seek me out if both of us still draw breath. When I take back my rightful crown, we can sail to that Braavos you love so much. Out there, we can both be queens of the world." The Greyjoy woman cackled as the ship pulled off from the docks. "That offer stands for you too, She-bear. Your hands are not a bad thing to have at disposal during a storm.

"If I never see your face, or hear that arrogant voice ever again, I'll consider myself a blessed woman, Lady Squid." Jested back Alysane. "You keep that boy of yours warm and happy."

"No worries there. He won't come to harm with his mother." Asha then turned from them and began to walk away from the docks and back to her white pony. "Be sure to tell your brother and that Silver King that they will both be welcomed here anytime."

"It won't happen." Arya laughed back as Asha became hard to see over the calm waters. Whatever the Greyjoy's response, it was lost in the wind, and she felt empty.

It was nearly an hour after leaving port that Ser Davos called out to her and requested she talk with him near the tiller. "I didn't want to say it in front of them, not after all that they gave us, but we won't make it to Lannisport. Not in this ship or with this crew. They will see this longship and will lock the port down, if it isn't already chained up by now."

"So what should we do? Aegon Targaryen seemed to think Lannisport was the best place to find the Imp, if he still lives."

Ser Davos bit his lip and lowered his voice as one of the Ironborn men passed by them with his fishing rod. "We can check Lannisport, that is still the plan, aye. But we will need to walk. I say we use the sails they gave us for all they are worth and land the ship near Kayce. We can walk the rest of the way to Lannisport, or purchase a few horses if we can find them."

"I trust you, and if that is what you think we should do, I won't object." She knew from just looking at the crew that they did not want to do this task. They would be happy to drop them off on the mainland as soon as possible and take the ship for themselves. The only thing that mattered was finding the Imp and her uncle, dead or alive. Then she would go to King's Landing and take Sansa to Riverrun. Her pack was all that mattered and nothing, not dragons, krakens, or even lions would stop her from protecting them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always great job helping me, Ocadioan.


	85. Queen's Landing

**Sansa:**

 

"And are you sure about this?" Lady Sansa Arryn asked Mya Stone from over her fragile cup of lemon tea. "I can't very well accuse him if this isn't true. You must be certain."

King Robert Baratheon's bastard nodded her head and took a bite out of her lemon cake. "Aye, I am. He's either bedding her or wants to. I got his squire drunk at the Four Poles, and he told me that they meet every other day in the barracks." Mya said after she swallowed down her mouthful and wiped the crumbs from her lips.

Sansa toyed with the full cup in thought. Spinning it in place and watching as the liquid splashed against the sides. "It could just be hearsay or rumors, or matters of the city. She is meant to be in charge of him when the King and Hand are away."

"Unlikely," Mya replied and pulled a piece of folded parchment out of her waist sack. "In exchange for a favor, I convinced his squire to swipe this off his desk."

She took the letter from her friend and quickly unfolded it. "This I could use," Sansa examined. It was better than she dared to hope for. Everything that she needed and suspected was written plain as day. It was true that the Dornish had no use or application for modesty and chastity, be it between the sheets or out of them. "How long?"

Mya shrugged her shoulders. "Who can truly know but the two of them? Likely, it didn't start too long after his promotion."

 _Tyrion you fool._ Sansa thought to herself as she read over the words written on the page a second time. It made her stomach flutter to simply read the things that the man wrote he wished to do. "They certainly didn't waste time in supplanting all of the Hand's appointments. Memories of Ser Janos Slynt returned to her, as she contemplated her next move. By law, the Goldcloaks were sworn to be loyal to the King, or his Hand, and yet they seemed to all have a nasty habit of allowing themselves to be bought. "How many men did you see outside?"

The coal-haired bastard's eyes squinted as she tried to remember what she saw when she came into the solar. "Thirteen. A bit heavier than usual for your guard. Should I be expecting trouble?"

"You should always expect trouble, so you are never left unprepared." Her father once came to King's Landing and underestimated the malicious forces at work behind its walls. That was a mistake she made too, and for that, she would never forgive herself. It did teach her much and she would never make it again. "It is heavier than usual, you're right. I have every man at my disposal on duty and at the ready inside the city and on the walls."

"Shall I go fetch some armor and a shield for myself?" Mya asked as she stretched her legs out under the table.

Sansa shook her head gently and took another sip. "That won't be necessary. The Mother of Dragons is still days away from the city and I don't expect any trouble until then."

The bastard from the Vale seemed relieved and took a deep drink of wine. "Shall I go and fetch the esteemed Ser Terrence?"

"I sent for him before you arrived." The whispers of his possible bed companion just made things easier for her. A favor to a man as low and greedy as him could turn out to be a very expensive thing. "I fear it may be rude, but-"

"Say no more, I can see myself out. If you're free later shall we have supper again? I swear they feed you better than they feed a bastard like me." Mya kicked her legs out from under her and swung back up to her feet.

She nodded her head, folded her hands in front of her and planted her palms on the table. "I would like nothing more. It's dull to eat alone." It was a worse thing to be alone. And that is what she nearly felt if not for Mya Stone. Harwyn was never a friend, a trusted man yes, but never a friend. He was the captain of her household guard and she trusted her life to him completely. Little Bethany cried the entire time her septa packed her things and wailed endlessly when her brother put her on his horse. "I won't be far behind. Wait for me and keep my aunt Roslin good company." Sansa promised her good sister when they parted, and she was determined to keep it. That was what she told herself over and over, when her men roughly urged the Commander of the Goldcloaks into her solar.

"Lady Arryn," Greeted the disheveled man. "you wished to speak with me."

"Yes," Sansa smiled at both of the men who escorted him and they released their hold of his shoulders. "It was supposed to be strictly business and kept friendly. Please apologize to the good man." On her command both of her guards bowed their heads and spoke their apologies. "Now you may leave us."

After they left the room she gestured to the seat opposite of her own and he warily sat in it. "I would have come of my own free will if they would have just given me a few moments."

"I'm sorry if they forced you. Sometimes, they do have a tendency to be overzealous when I give them orders, but they are all good men and only wish to serve me to the best of their abilities."

The man nodded and combed his lengthy hair back with the edge of his hand. "I hold no grudge against them or you, M'lady. I have many good men just like that who serve me too." His gray eyes flickered over the pitcher of wine several times.

"Please go right ahead if you have a thirst, Ser Terrence. My good friend Lady Mya Stone seemed to enjoy it herself." He did not hesitate, and he filled an empty goblet. "I'm sure you must be wondering why you're here." Terrence Hill nodded his head and she continued. "It pertains to the future of the realm, our safety and the safety of our children."

"I do not have any children that I know of, M'lady."

"But I do," Sansa smiled as pleasantly as she could at the yellow-haired man and rubbed her tummy. "and I have not found one thing in this world that I care more about than my child's safety. Surely you must understand."

Ser Terrence nodded and reached for the pitcher to refill his cup. "I do. I'm confident that when the Gods bless me with children, I will move mountains for their sake."

"I'm sure you will." She maintained her smile and leisurely sipped from her cup of tea while never breaking sight of him. "I would not have judged your character too fondly if you said anything less." The man chuckled warmly and rubbed the back of his neck. "So you will understand when I express my great worry about the Mother of Dragons coming arrival."

"The whole city is more than worried. Everyone with the coin or means of transportation has left the city, and they are making for someplace they think is safer. Those staying behind have tried to loot the homes of the absent and make a tiny fortune on the misery of others. While I maintain my position, I will never let that happen. Already today, I have three men ready to be hung by the neck until dead tomorrow morn, two men and one child for public flogging and one woman to be branded."

Sansa nodded her head along and tried not to think of the pain the child would go through soon. "I'm sure you will dispense justice in all the lawful ways you've been charged to. Matters of smallfolk crime or punishment is however not why I have called upon you, good Ser."

"I am your servant and in your debt, Lady Arryn. Your husband's men have been a tremendous help. Without them, I can't begin to fathom what the city would look like. Even the ones who do nothing have done good by this city. Many unsavory folks think twice about committing misdeeds if they know someone with the means of stopping them are close by."

"That warms my heart so much to hear." She stole one more sip of her tea to buy herself a few more seconds of time. Hidden by the table, she reached down and touched Harwyn's dagger, which lay on her lap, to make sure it was still there. "I called you here today to discuss the manner you plan to lead your Goldcloaks in when the Mother of Dragons arrives here."

Her words seemed to stump the man. He finished his second cup of wine and refilled it for the third time. "If this is a question of my bravery or courage, I can assure you that I will not falter in my duties. Those under me will also not fail our Grace or this city either. That I swear by the Old Gods and the New."

With all the people the Mother of Dragons led, Sansa felt that soon that certain oath would need to be amended for the eastern Gods and the Heart of Rhllor. "It was not your courage I was questioning, not really. I do suppose having the good sense to know when you are beaten down does require a sense of humility and courage too."

"Standing down ..." Terrence Hill trailed off as his cup of wine dangled dangerously in his limp grasp. "I can't stand down my Goldcloaks. I've been ordered by Lady Nymeria to hold the gates until given express orders from her. I have been led to believe that the small Council has yet to make a decision of what our response shall be."

"Led by who?" Sansa asked with a look of confusion barely maintained over her body's desire to smile. "Lady Margaery Tyrell? Lord Varys? Princess Arianne? Or was it Lady Nymeria Sand?"

The subtle bob of his neck gave him away quite quickly. "In fact, it was the latter. Was I mislead?"

Sansa shook her head. "No, the small council has yet to make a decision. One that I do not foresee coming about ever, unfortunately. If it wasn't chosen for us, I could not imagine us all agreeing on the color of the drapes that adorn the windows."

"It seems to me you have been effective on some issues and votes." Bitterly exclaimed the Commander of the Goldcloaks.

"Still hurt over the decision we made to not give you a say in the small council? Well, disappointment is an important part of life too." His eyes flared in some mixture of surprise and anger then. "I can promise you that both Princess Arianne and Lady Nymeria supported your appointment, but alas, I was the tie breaker."

He tried his best to ignore her and replied. "Princess Arianne and the Lady Nymeria are clever and wise far beyond their years. They know what is best for the realm and the city, unlike some sitting members." Not that his best was much at all.

"And what is the best for the city and the realm? Dragons burning down towns and killing thousands of people? Are Dothraki screamers roaming free to sack and rape for miles? No, I'm afraid the best course of action left to us right now is peace and humility."

"So says you, M'lady. Woe to the Kingdoms if you were our monarch." He took another drink of her wine. "Forgive me, as I mean no real offense, but I know of no other way to say this. It is a good thing you are not our Queen and that you only sit on the small council. I know you may have no martial prowess, so you don't know this, but wars are won with sword and spear, not letters and words spoken over lemon cakes." Terrence Hill belligerently explained to her like she was a little girl.

"You are so very right, good Ser. I was never versed in the art of battlefield tactics or swordplay. I do possess a healthy amount of common sense, which I can say is thoroughly lacking in King's Landing. Harrenhall, upon its completion nearly three hundred years ago, was the most impressive and formidable castle ever built. Do you know what happened when Aegon the Conqueror came to it upon his dragon and ordered it surrendered?"

"They refused and it was destroyed. Inside its halls, Harren and his sons all perished." He spat the words out like they were something vile and disgusting to his tongue.

Sansa nodded her head and tapped her finger against the side of her piping hot cup. "And the Mother of Dragons has three dragons." Her eyes locked with Terrence's. "You would test the defenses of this city against that? Would you test the mettle of your men against fire? If you would, then you are the biggest fool who has ever lived, Ser."

"I would recommend you not test me with these insults, Lady Arryn. I may just get offended." The Commander of the Goldcloaks threatened as his hand balled into a fist.

"I wasn't insulting you, Ser Terrence. But would you call a chair a bed? Would you call an apple an orange? No, you would call it by its proper name and if you think this city can withstand Dragonfire, then you are an idiot. I do not presume you an idiot. So far, you have performed all of your duties excellently and for the wellbeing of the people in this city. I hope you continue in this position for a long time." His fist slackened then. "And if that is to happen, you cannot bar the gates when Daenerys Stormborn comes. if you do, we will all die and neither of us will ever see our children grow or even be born.

"If the small council tells me to open the gates, I will be honor bound to obey. Until then, I will heed Lady Nymeria's advice and the city will remain barred to this foreign Queen and the demons who follow in her trail." The Commander of the Goldcloaks finished his third cup of her wine and stood up from the table. "With this, I bid you a good day, Lady Arryn." With a fluttering of his heavy woolen cloak, he turned and strutted towards the door like a cock of the roost.

Sansa cleared her throat and calmly said. "I did not dismiss you, Ser Terrence, please sit back down." He stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at her in bewilderment. "It took two of my men to drag you against your will to me. Outside those doors are fifteen of my best. If I say you are not dismissed, that means we are not done here."

He looked ready to argue, but thought better of it and obeyed her like the good little follower he truly was. "This is most dishonorable. I, in good faith, put aside my daily tasks and duties to meet on your behest and now you are what? Keeping me hostage by way of threats of violence."

"Only if you don't see reason. I see no reason why we can't be civil. You were the one who attempted to leave prior to me finishing." Sansa again tested his patience by taking a long sip of her delicious tea. "You seem quite loyal to Lady Nymeria Sand."

Terrence Hill pulled at his loose fur collar and then nodded. "Aye, I am. As I said, my Lady Nymeria is one of the few people in King's Landing to have a smart head about how the world really works. In life, M'lady Highborn, you have to fight for everything you have to make sure no one takes it from you. No peasant down there in the real world outside of your big fancy castles would let some invader enter their home, sleep in their bed, and shit in their pot without a fight and a half. What you are suggesting is treason and I won't hear any of it."

"Are you sure that is the only reason you follow your ... what did you call her again, my Lady Nymeria? Is there no other reason, Ser Terrence?"

His pupils dilated in muted shock and he refilled the cup with her wine for the fourth time. "Lady Nymeria is the master of laws. She makes the laws and carries them out. It is only natural that I take my directives from her in the absence of the King and the Hand."

"Tell me ... how long have you two been sleeping together? Did you first approach her, or did she broach the subject? And tell me, was this after you assumed control or was it before? How about you just tell me how long you've been her little puppet on a string with as few lewd details as possible. I am carrying a child." Sansa finished her cup of tea and pleasantly sighed as the man stood to his feet and knocked the chair down to the floor. It resulted in such a loud clattering that it brought half of her guards into the room with their weapons drawn, ready to cut him down.

"You dare insult my honor, you highborn Bitch!" He roared in real and honest anger. It always delighted her to see the true face of people behind their masks of courtesies and pleasantries, and his was rather exciting to behold. "You sit there with your fucking condescending smirk and dare to insult me?"

Sansa ignored his insults and looked at her guards. "Please leave us. Ser Terrence has just lost his head."

"Pretty brave little bitch too, aren't you? What makes you think I won't just smack the taste out of that uppity mouth of yours? What makes you think I won't just fucking cut your head off and skull fuck it? Certainly not my honor that you claim I don't have."

"Because I don't think you're that stupid, Ser. If you dared to lay a single hand on me, they would tear you apart. Arthos, that man with the black beard and brown eyes carrying the axe. His father was a butcher." She turned to look directly at Hendry who had hefted his massive double sided axe onto his shoulder and carried it in one hand. "I'm sure you could make his death last for days."

"Aye, I could. Feed him to the pigs after it too. Hate to waste such pretty pink flesh." Said Arthos who then grinned at the man with a dirty and rotten mouthful of teeth.

"And the man with the crossbow once studied to be a maester. If Arthos went too far, he could heal you well enough for him to continue." Sansa smiled at Bayard Grayflowers, who aimed his crossbow directly at Ser Terrence's nether region. "So will you sit back down and keep your voice down?"

Ser Terrence put his hands in the air and carefully kneeled down to pick up his fallen chair. After he returned to his seated position she sent the men from the room. "What do you want? Think you can blackmail me? It's not like she's married. We are both free people and rumors won't net you anything but her scorn and wrath. It would be a shame if a vial of poison found its way into that there cup of tea. It would just be like some winter chill took you, and that babe of yours, in your sleep. It would be a terrible tragedy that after all you've been through, that now, when finally happy, the Gods decide to steal away your life from you."

"It would be a tragedy would it not. Thankfully that will not happen, though if it does you can be sure that my sister and husband would hunt you and everyone who helped you down." The man finished his fourth cup and reached out for the fifth refill that she would not allow. "It is my wine, and in this big and fancy castle, we highborn do not let invaders drink our wine or threaten us. We prefer to do the threatening ourselves." Sansa picked up the flagon, tilted it over the floor and then watched as the stream of rich arbor wine fell through the air and splattered on the floor. "Oops, clumsy me. It is a good thing this castle has such a well-stocked winery."

"Happy I didn't pay for it." He murmured with a wet sheen clinging to his lips.

"Oh, are you?" Sansa dropped the flagon to the floor and straightened up in her chair. "How close are you with our Grace?"

"I've never met him. I was given this position by Lord Tyrion Lannister."

"Unfortunately, he is quite the jealous man, you should know. Full of anger and wrath. He certainly takes his house's words to heart." She watched in joy as the man's eyes drifted from her then to his feet in deep reflection. "Fire and blood are what he lives by. And he loves his family, as we all do, though as a Targaryen, he might love his family more than is considered appropriate." Sansa coyly smiled at him and watched as the paranoia grew and grew in his head. "If you don't know yet, my husband Lord Harrold Arryn is one of the King's most trusted companions, and I have my husband's ear above all others. So I offer you this one and final kindness, which you have not deserved in the slightest this evening. You will do as I command, you will open the gates and stand your men down when the Mother of Dragons comes, and finally you will tell me everything that Lady Nymeria tells you if it relates at all to your position in the Goldcloaks."

"And why should I do that." He mumbled under his breath as if he didn't know. He couldn't even look her in her eyes anymore and stared down at his boots unflinchingly.

"If you don't, then you can be sure that the King will hear of you bedding his beloved cousin during his absence. While poison may be a horrible death, I can promise you that being burned alive is far worse of a fate. If you keep being a good and smart man, he will never hear a peep of this from me. Do you accept my terms?"

It did not take him long to weigh his options. "Fine, but know that you have made an enemy here today. When that dragon bitch finally leaves that fucking island, I will command my men to stand down and open the gates. The death toll will be on you. Know that when this all comes back to haunt us, I will not think twice about telling everyone who will listen that this was your idea."

"I would expect nothing less." Sansa slid the dagger onto the floor and then stood up from the table. "Now you may leave, Ser Terrence. We've both gotten what we needed and have no more reason to offend each other."

The man did as she bid, but stopped a step away from the door. "What was it that I got here today?"

Sansa chuckled. "A lesson. A lesson that corrected a misgiving of yours. Some battles can be won by words, not violence." In her heart, she knew that it was survival she truly won for the city.

For the next four days, the Goldcloaks were hers, only hers. With her own Valemen, the Spider assured her that the city was in her hands, and she was in truth the real monarch of the city. Even if the people didn't know it, it was a direwolf that ruled them. A filthy barbarian from the North, who worshiped trees. It would be a blasphemer and heretic who saved them from living incarnations of fire. It was on the fifth day that she was awoken during the hour of the wolf by hornblowers and by the bells of war. On the Blackwater there were three boats, and they proudly flew the three-headed dragon. She almost was a fool enough to hope that it was Lord Aurane Velaryon for a short while, until the first roar of the beastly thing from her deepest nightmare made her nearly soil her small clothes.

True to his word, Ser Terrence ordered his Goldcloaks to stand down and despite complaints from the Tyrells, his men loosened the chain across the Blackwater and let the ships pass. Before the leading ship even docked in the harbor the chains that held the black monster to the ship were released and he flew high into the sky. The Mother of Dragons' beast danced and spun through the night sky like the most practiced of dancers. With a loud roar, it let loose a plume of fire even darker than the sky, and through it ran veins of red brighter than any ruby that ever was.

Even as she watched it dance with the clouds, it still felt impossible. She felt like she had stumbled into a walking dream that she could not escape from. "I understand." Was all Sansa could utter as it divebombed over the city over and over, each time getting closer and closer to the crowd, who watched it with fear. "How could men ever stand against that." After its final roar of the night, it flew high above Aegon's Hill and landed with the utmost of grace on the southern tower of the Red Keep.

The entire court, or those who were brave enough to leave their bedchambers, walked or rode to the harbor of the city. In her walk through the city, it seemed like every man, woman, child, animal, and Sparrow was awake and waiting for the inevitable to befall them. On corners and in squares the septons, septas, and other holy men blessed and forgave sins for those who felt unready to die. Women held their screaming babes and children close to their chests and hugged them for what they believed was the last time. Some were certain that their King would return to save them, some that he had abandoned them, and others cursed his name for ever leaving.

Sansa attached herself to Lady Margaery Tyrell and her endless parade of maids and companions. She said little and spent the walk in silent prayer. As they passed on by the street of steel, Mya Stone followed with her and was dressed in a full plate of steel and a hounskull helm. Noticeable by his absence was the fat and effeminate eunuch, who Sansa doubted not was hiding away somewhere nice and safe. She fully expected him to appear days later when the danger had fully passed. The Dornish Princess led the procession line, and behind her was her cousin. The both of them were the only two in the whole city who wore smiles for their new Queen that night.

On the docks, the Mother of Dragons sat patiently. If Aegon was the fairest man in the Seven Kingdoms, then it was only fair that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole of the world. Silver hair braided with silver bells that hung down to the middle of her back. On her head was a strange crown forged of gold, and from it sprung three heads and each was made of jade, ivory, and onyx. Her purple eyes were even brighter and clearer than Aegon's own violet, and they studied each and every one of them as they stopped before her. Her dress was made of the brightest ivory, and around her shoulders was a white lion pelt that dragged when she walked.

"Kneel." Her command was simple and not one person dared to disobey it or her. She walked to each person and demanded their name and what house they hailed from before letting them return to their feet. Beside her was an ugly bear of a man, and burned on his cheek was a monstrous face. Followed closely behind them was a fat man with dusky skin, who wore nothing more than a vest, and on his enormous belly was an uncountable number of scars. "What is your name?" She asked the Dornish Princess.

"Princess Arianne, first born child and heir to my father Prince Doran Martell." Said the Dornish woman with a practiced grace that Sansa knew to always be wary of.

The Mother of Dragons deemed the Martell girl with a smile and offered her a hand to help her back to her feet. "Well met, Princess Arianne."

Before she reached her, Sansa cast her eyes down and counted the cracks in the wooden deck. "And who are you?" Queen Daenerys Targaryen asked in a gentle and kind voice that stunned Sansa to hear from someone who controlled three fabled monsters.

"Sansa Arryn nee Stark, first born daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark and wife to Lord Harrold Arryn of the Vale."

Her purple eyes lingered on Sansa for a time longer than she felt comfortable before her lips parted. "Well met, Lady Arryn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your help and advice again, Ocadioan.


	86. Brothers in Arms

**Aegon:**

 

"Myr is a good enough city. Far more splendid than King's Landing, but not a favorite of mine in the free cities. I hold a certain fondness for Braavos and its Iron Titan in my heart." He explained as he remembered the cobbled streets and the smell of salt that hung over the city and dug deep into his pores.

"I always wanted to see the Titan, and the Long Bridge of Volantis." Declared the bastard of Eddard Stark.

He too always wanted to walk the Long Bridge as a young boy, and as a man he finally did. By then, his wonderment of the world and the sights it held had long run dry. It was a crowded, disorganized, and rowdy city. The people would not stop pushing him or trying steal his purse from his waist. "Happy you're seeing it now?" Marwyn asked him with a grand laugh. The elder man clapped him on the shoulder. "Whatever you expected to find here is buried under the civility of commerce and trade." His mentor was quite correct. In some places he found sphinxes or dragons and wolves and basilisks carved into the bridges. Many pieces of art could be found wedged in between a glassblower's shop or a fruit merchant's rolling stand.

The grand Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis held up to its lofty reputation far better than the Long Bridge did. Adorned on each step of the temple's height were enormous pillars of red stone. On each of their spires, flames roared that never seemed to dim, even in the rain. Its priests and priestesses freely gave absolution and swore on the coming salvation that would await them. To the slaves who came to them, they promised freedom in either this life or the next. To the freedmen and those with crafts, they promised a paradise in the afterlife which rewarded faithfulness and virtue. Those that dripped with coin or owned land handed over donations to the red priests in return for blessings. "Are you an Andal? If you accept the Lord of Light into your heart, I can offer absolution even for you." Said a girl no older than himself while he climbed those many steps. Marwyn and he shared a long laugh all throughout the rest of the day after that.

Of all the sights in Volantis, Aegon favored the Black Wall most of all. Constructed from a strange black and oily stone that he had seen only once before. The wall rose to a height of nearly two hundred feet and forty feet across. It was by far the most impressive structure he had ever seen. Not even the Hightower compared well to it. "You would be most welcome if you would only tell them," Marwyn taunted his resolve in the cruelest of whispers. "You hold the most sacred of Valyrian blood in your veins. You could have the pick of any girl, with only the purest of blood running through her veins. You could have the largest manse and live only in comfort until the age of ninety surrounded by your children and their children. Just say the words and I will see to it that this life becomes yours."

His response remained as it always did. "No." He was a Targaryen, he was the last Targaryen and he was the Prince that was Promised. If he did not save Westeros, then no one would.

"You could leave this world behind and forget the horrors of before. It could all be a nightmare you've now woken from. A distant memory of the very worst of times. You would spare yourself so much pain, so much suffering." The sorceress' words were like poison. Her tongue was like a serpent and her breath hotter than any flame. "Just command us for the last time and it will all be yours. I could bring you there myself and take you to the place of my first birth." Again his answer did not change.

Aegon turned to look at the bastard of Eddard Stark, who sat upon a black gelding. "The Long Bridge is grander than you can imagine. It exceeded all of my expectations." He pulled his black sable cloak tighter around himself and shivered at the cold that only got worse the farther north they went. "The only free city I haven't been to is Qohor. Grand Maester Marwyn tells me that it is what most people would expect it to be."

"And what is that?" Asked Snow.

"A city of sorcerers and mages. In that city, they worship a black goat who demands daily sacrifices. Sometimes they're just animals of the field, of leisure, or criminals and other miscreants on days of religious importance. He told me that on his first day in the city, the priests beheaded ten children when ten of their fields had grown bare and dead."

"That's horrible." Jon Snow exclaimed as he pulled his reins tighter to keep his horse from veering off the path to wander. "I've never even been below the Neck before. There is so much of the world I've not seen."

"Aye, but I'm sure men of the Night's Watch don't get much of an opportunity to see the world. Mayhaps snow and trees and frozen lakes, but never a famed pleasure house of Lys." Aegon jested as his ashen horse nipped at Jon's.

The bastard humored his attempt and chuckled. "No, we've never been given leave to visit a pleasure house. Many of my former brothers were likened to frequent a brothel in Mole's Town when they could sneak away. They liked to say they were digging for treasure."

"Not all pleasure houses are brothels in Lys. Some cater only to the art of music or dance. A few are more like taverns in nature and some have a bit of everything in them."

"I've never even been in a brothel before. I thought about it, but just couldn't." Jon Snow explained. "It just didn't appeal to me; paying for something not real. Fathering a bastard." His dark gray eyes met with Aegon's violet and he grinned at him. "I heard you visited one in Wintertown. Not that I dare to judge, your Grace. A lot of brothers did the same. Wanted to remember what it is like one last time before a battle."

The silver-haired King bit his lip so hard he tasted the warmth of his blood and cursed the Arryn's very existence. It was not bad enough that the whores and patrons knew, but it had spread like a wildfire through the ranks of even his own men and vassals. He likes um' young and dark haired. He still heard Ser Dontos Fletching and his abysmal voice in his head whenever he slept or took a piss. "We all have moments of weakness." And foolishness.

That night haunted his every step and breath. He sacrificed his own reputation for what? If Harrold wished to fuck all the whores from the Wall to the Shadow Town, he would not stop or question him any longer. If he wanted to father bastards and make the bloody eight, he would not hinder the man. Lord Harrold was Sansa's problem, and whatever he brought home to the Vale with him was also her problem. If he wanted to forsake his wife every night with a new woman, Aegon would not concern himself any longer. If that was only possible, he would of course, but he could not. It never went away and his mind kept always wondered. It made no sense to him. She was a married woman. A woman married to one of the most prestigious houses with a child on the way. Yet his rationalizations never helped him get past it.

Soon, if he was to survive the coming War of the Dawn, he would return to King's Landing and take a wife next. He had held it off for far too long. He knew that, and if he had not been a craven he would have had his own child on the way just like Harrold. Yet in his head, he could not picture either Margaery Tyrell or Arianne Martell. Marwyn told him that eventually, he would come to hold affection for the mother of his children. Whatever resentment that remained would be forgotten in time. Aegon's heart told him that Marwyn was wrong. He did not want his children to grow without a loving father or a mother. He wanted his children to grow happy. What kind of family would he lead if it was built on something so impure?

He knew what he wanted for his family, and it was what the Tyrells and what the Starks had. "We would do anything for each other. I would kill a hundred men to see my brother Jon again." Arya Stark had told him in King's Landing.

"I won't put my sister in harm's way again so you can keep your crown," Jon stated with finality after they received news of his traitorous aunt's landing on Dragonstone.

"Why do you want me to marry your sister?" Aegon asked Willas Tyrell when they were still just boys, Willas a good bit older than himself. "Just for a crown?"

"Because you would make her happy," The Tyrell had just said what he knew Aegon wanted to hear. Even as a child he knew that very well. "you would be kind to her and we would be brothers."

But they would never be real brothers. Even by the virtue of marriage, he would not be a Tyrell, even if he wanted to be. He was a Targaryen, and if he wasn't, they would have had no use for him. It was legitimacy and a crown they wanted from him. They wanted to be able to point to the heirs of the Seven Kingdoms and say that in their veins ran Tyrell blood. He never hated them for it, it was what most houses wanted, and it made all the sense in the world that they would too. It would be foolish to hate or condemn them for it, but it never made it any easier to accept.

"You are my brother. Even if not by blood, we are brothers. And I am your faithful servant until my dying breath." Balon swore to him after he lost his Myra. So full of life and love they were, but the Gods cared not for those so pure as them. Aegon had never seen the fairness that the septons preached of. All the good in the world he had ever saw was made by men. All wrongs were righted by those who took justice for themselves. It was never freely given. Brothers were not meant to serve each other or be subservient. He loved Balon with all his heart, but his Swann brother wanted to serve him and not once did he ever want to stand beside him, only behind. His Swann brother only ever aspired to be his shield and if need be his sword.

He understood the truth of what Marwyn tried to explain to him all his life soon after he arrived at Highgarden. "You are alone, little Egg. From your first breath until your dying breath, you are alone. No one man will ever be your equal in this world. Not one person will ever truly know you, or ever understand you. You are the last Targaryen and you are the last hope for your bloodline. If not you, then no one will reclaim what was stolen. Never forget who you are, and never forget what you are."

Aegon would never forget. He could not afford to forget. It did not matter to him what happened. No matter what burdens he had to carry or how much weighed. He would carry them, but he would not suffer the past on his children. He would not let them grow to become him. I am what the world needs me to be. Nothing more, nothing less. It was his prayer during times of strife or insecurity. It was all he had when everything else dimmed. Those were once the words his master at arms comforted him with after he watched the run down a thief who stole a chicken to feed his family.

"Until your last breath, when you find yourself alone and the world turned against you. When I am dead and long gone, and you have no excuses left. You will have to ask yourself if everything you've done was worth what you've accomplished." Those words were his eleventh name day present. The next day he was sent away from Stonehelm and brought to Highgarden as Garlan's squire.

"We may have to stop soon. The horses need a rest and the men could use a chance to catch their breaths." Murmured Jon Snow, as he looked up at the dimming sun that cut through the clouds. Its light bounced and echoed off the thigh high snow and blinded him when his eyes lingered away from the path before him. "We should arrive at Castle Black by tonight." Aegon wished to keep them moving, but alas, three-quarters of the army were made up of men on foot. For a full day they had marched nonstop. Forty men had already deserted. Where they thought they could or would go, he knew not.

"Shall we rest here or do you know of a more suitable location?" All around them were frost covered pines, dark foliage, and on the eastern side of the road was a small stream that had long frozen over. The land was clear enough for camp, but had little else than soaked lumber for them to forage. No berries, no fields and no villages to barter with. The village of Honeycomb would have been a better place for them to stop if he had only listened to Lord Tarly's request to stop there. Jon Snow had warned him before they left Winterfell to heed the maps and charts less. He called them all deceptive in nature for how they made the Gifts out to be. Aegon had ignored him then and he would not ignore him this time.

The bastard son of Eddard Stark pulled his horse away from the road and dropped to his feet. "Here," He caressed his horse and it whined at his attention. Jon Snow stamped his feet as deep as he could manage into the snow and tested the ground that was below. "the dirt is solid, and we already have the road uncovered. We could dig a campsite out from here and keep a watch on the road. If anyone approaches us we could see them first before they see us." The bastard, even to the end, was sure that a party of brothers from the Night's Watch would come to meet and escort them on the road.

"You heard Lord Snow." Aegon turned back and said to his third squire. "Ride down the line and instruct them all that we will be stopping here for a spell. I want them to start from the road and dig out towards the west and east. Make sure that they know to leave room for the baggage train to pass by them." He looked at the road already cleared away and was confident that it was far too narrow of a path for the beasts of burden and the carts they pulled. The damned aurochs moved so slow he was sure that they were two, if not more, hours behind them. It would leave them with enough time to widen the road just enough for them to pass

"What's the matter?" Asked Balon who rode up the side of the kingsroad and met them in great haste.

"We're stopping here for a time. The men need to catch their breaths, my horse needs a rest, and I need to put my arse on something other than this saddle." Aegon replied and then kicked his horse a few paces off from the road. He stopped his steed just before the snow line.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard pulled his riding hood down from his face and brushed loose snowflakes away from his bushy beard. "Here? There is nothing here."

"There is water if they want to crack and heat the ice for it. The men should have some scraps from yesterday stored away." Aegon threw his leg over his pale horse and dropped to the snow. "Ride ahead to stop the vanguard and bring them back here. Make sure they receive a hot meal and each are given a horse for the rest of the march to Castle Black. Have Garlan assemble a new group of his own men to take over the shovels. I want to reach Castle Black by tonight and be in a bed before the hour of the wolf." He led his horse on foot after the Stark bastard, who made off towards an eastern grove.

He briefly lost the Snow in a dense collection of oaks and pines, but did find him kneeling before a somehow still flowing sliver of water that hid amongst the trees and frost. "The first time I came to the Wall, we stopped here for the night. I slept right under this tree and I rested my feet on that rock."

"Now you're going back for the second time." Aegon pulled his thin riding gloves off and breathed warm air onto his numb hands. The hot air stung his pink and calloused fingers. "It must be exciting for you."

Jon Snow chuckled and shook his head. "Third actually, though I never came this way the second time." Aegon pulled Justice towards the stream and tied him to a cracked stump near Jon's horse.

"That was with your Wildlings, was it not?" He had heard the story half a thousand times before. The traitorous Jon Snow abandoned the Night's Watch and broke their vows to go parading around with Wildings. After he betrayed them too, when he found himself on the losing side. Or the courageous and daring Lord Snow risked life and death to learn the true size of the Wildling army and returned to Castle Black to warn his brothers when he got the first chance.

"They prefer to be called Free Folk, your Grace. If you don't know their names, or the name of their clan, that is." Thenn, flesh-eating ice-river clans, berserkers from the Frozen Shore. Marwyn told him stories about clans of men and women who lived in caves their entire lives. Their faces turned to shades of blue and green and purple. They practiced a culture of rape, theft, pillaging. Those beyond the Wall worshiped the Old Gods in a crueler and darker way than those who lived behind the Wall.

Aegon ground his teeth and brushed off a coat of snow from a fallen tree before he sat on it. "Their names matter little, and what they called their clans before even less. If they seek to live on this side of the Wall they will recognize my authority."

"Many have tried before, your Grace. They want no king and will not bow because someone commands them to. I know hundreds of brave men and women who would rather face the edge of a sword than bend the knee." Jon Snow spoke those words all too easily. Like they came from his own heart and not someone else's.

It was a dangerous game of words the bastard played. "They will face the blade if they refuse, and then what remains of them will be given to the flames. I would toss each and every one of them who doesn't bow, back over the Wall if I thought they wouldn't come back to kill me and mine." Jon Snow opened his mouth to argue or say something, but Aegon silenced him. "I know you have a soft spot in your heart for them. Your words have betrayed your true feelings on this matter already."

"They are not the true enemies, those things beyond the Wall are." Jon Snow's pitch of voice again betrayed his emotions.

"And what about after? What about when this war of the living versus the dead is won? Will we force them back over the Wall? Or will we gift them land on this side?"

"The Gifts contain good land." Jon Snow exclaimed. "Hardly three hundred people farm these lands now and there is enough for them all to share."

"Simple solution for a problem not so simple." Aegon felt the Snow's gray gaze burrow into his chest and he settled himself against a tree for support. "Will you tell them how to conduct themselves as well? Will you tell them how to worship their gods?" The Snow hesitated for a few moments, but in time he shook his head and declined. "That would be a reasonable response. They have rituals and a way of doing things. A way that it has been for hundreds of years. These Free Folk would be resistant to change and it would bring contempt on our heads if we did, in fact, force them."

"So you won't force them." The bastard was a good man and he could be smarter if he wished to be.

"Oh, I will. And I will do it with a clear conscious and a smile on my face." Aegon watched Jon Snow's hands for any signs of backlash, and when he saw none, he continued. "Humor me for a moment and think of what the future would bring if I allowed them to act with impunity. What answer would you give a father or mother, whose daughter was kidnapped and raped by one of your Free Folk? What answer could you give a family of eight who now must starve or accept the generosity of others after a group of Free Folk stole their harvest? Would you tell them that it is just the Free Folks' way? It is just how they act and how they have always done things?"

Jon Snow seemed at a loss for words and tried hard to grasp for an answer. His silence and the effort to find a suitable answer pleased him greatly. It meant he was not stupid and stuck in his way like most of the men that made up his realm. A simple yes or no would never suffice. "I don't know."

"Neither do I. Which is why I won't choose. I will explain the laws of my realm to these Free Folk. If they don't like these new rules and don't want to live by them, they may choose a life beyond the Wall or a quick and swift death on this side. To those that accept my offer and then proceed to steal, rape or murder, they will be treated the same as those born on this side of the Wall. My offer is fair and they would be wise to accept it. To steal is a loss of a hand, to rape is to be gelded, kill and be killed in turn. That is justice and that is fair, Jon Snow. Would you say my terms are anything less?"

"They're fair." The Snow begrudgingly admitted. "But they will still resist you." The bastard born from Eddard Stark's loins was right, and more clever than many gave him credence for.

He was a competent rider, he had a good mind for strategy and a fine voice suited for leadership. Most of the Northern Lords and Ladies respected him. Few found cause to insult his name, and if they did, it was behind his back in the safety of shadows like dock rats. "He looks just like his father." Declared Lord Randyll Tarly with his disapproving stare, days earlier. The man fathered a real hatred towards Jon coincidently after he learned that his firstborn was freed of his oaths to forge a chain in Oldtown.

"Stark through and through. His father's seed took to Ashara Dayne better than it did Catelyn Tully." Said the aged and white haired Lord Gargalen. He did not expect to live long enough to see his home of Dorne again. He liked to prattle loudly about the times of old when he was drunk and always became rather pitiful.

Jon Snow, from appearances alone, was his father, and mayhaps a bit of his aunt if the little crannogman from the Neck remembered her right. The only other child of Eddard Stark to share that look was the younger girl, Arya. Their eyes were both a shade of gray, though the girl's eyes were a lighter shade than her bastard brother's. His eyes bordered on the same shade of Aegon's Dark Sister. If he looked hard into the Snow's eyes he thought he could even see the truth of what Lord Tremond spoke of. Hard to see at most times of the day were the light shades of indigo that showed only in the brightest of lights.

The bastard claimed not to have known who his mother was and that his father never once told him. It was obviously a lie. A man with nothing to hide would have no reason to become offended at the innocent question. Aegon knew of men in his past who kept the most inane of secrets close to their hearts for the strangest of reasons. He would deny all the claims that declared he was Azor Ahai reborn when confronted. All while the worshippers of the fiery heart praised and bowed to him as if he was their real king.

That too was all lies. He had read the stories and texts as a child, he knew all the verses and texts better than they. All priests and priestesses spoke of a flaming sword, one that would lit by the same fire as the sun. It would be wielded by their greatest champion and they would end the night that never ended. Only with Lightbringer could the Great Other be slain and the eternal summer would follow. Unless Aegon was blind and dumb, he saw no flames on the bastard's sword and it had lit no great fires. Stannis Baratheon had the wits to at least glamour his blade to look the part. For the good it was worth, the bastard did not seem to encourage their reverence, but he never tried to stifle it either.

Indifference was no excuse. "I fully expect them to." His eyes met with Jon Snow's and he returned the smile back at him. "I thank you for your honesty. Not many would have the courage to tell me these truths. So many of them are only concerned with licking my boots and complementing the taste it leaves on their tongue. All the others just want to stay out of my way for fear of retribution because of some slight ... or insult they suffered on my house. But not you, you don't fear that, do you?"

"No, I do not, your Grace." The Snow took the rock across from him as a seat.

"And why is that?"

His gray eyes wavered as he briefly thought about it. "Because if you were going to take vengeance, you would have already done it."

"Would I? Why wouldn't I wait until I don't have a need for you any longer?"

"Mayhaps you will. Mayhaps you won't. I just don't think you will." Again, he was brutally honest and it brought a grin to Aegon's face. "You like to speak fairness and justice to me a lot. My father is dead, and most of those directly involved in Robert's Rebellion are too. If you wanted to punish my brother and sisters, you would have done that already. You had them long before you had need of me and you plan to rebuild your Kingdom with them."

"You place a lot of trust in my words. I could be lying, or I could just be mad. My grandfather was mad. He killed your uncle Brandon and grandfather Rickard. In turn Eddard Stark helped Robert Baratheon in his war, and because of that, my father is dead, my sister is dead, my mother is dead and my grandmother is dead." Aegon watched as his horse nipped at Jon's again and was batted away by the latter for it.

Jon pulled his white sable cloak in front of him and used it to shield his body from the cold. "And your grandfather."

Aegon shrugged his shoulders and sniggered. "Fuck my grandfather and bless the sword that the Kingslayer shoved into his back. He was mad and unfit to be King. What's more, he deserved to die. Pity that my father never had the spine to spare the realm of him, before he absconded with your aunt Lyanna like a coward." His eyes flickered up and he looked at the bastard son of Eddard Stark and then put his hand to his heart sincerely. "Since he isn't here to say it himself, I suppose it falls to me." It would not be the first time he made amends for his father's failures. "I apologize for the crimes of my father. It wasn't right what he did to Lyanna Stark. That wasn't fair to anyone." The words slithered from his gullet like a snake and the words burned his tongue to form them.

Jon Snow opened his mouth and sucked in as much air as he could. "You-"

Both Marwyn and Ser Loras pushed through the brush on foot and found them with smiles worn only for him. "You shouldn't have taken off by yourselves." Advised Marwyn in a stern voice that fell on deaf ears. "Without you two, those men back there wouldn't know what way to tie up their damn breeches without breaking into brawls. It might be amusing, if they weren't likely to draw their weapons and lessen our already dwindling numbers."

"How many deserters?" Aegon asked with a sigh as he got back to his feet.

"Twenty-five at the most recent count. Likely more, if I am allowed to be pessimistic." Marwyn pulled a pinch of sourleaf from his satchel and popped it into his mouth. A nervous habit of his, and one that would leave him without the comfort it brought him, if he didn't slow down his chewing.

"We caught four men, two from the Riverlands, one from Dorne and the last man said he was from Oldcastle." Loras made a great point to look directly at Jon when he said 'Oldcastle'. "What shall we do them, my King?"

Aegon looked at Jon, and to his surprise, the bastard even met his gaze when others were watching. "Pardon them. Make sure that word of my mercy is spread into the camps. I want all the men, be they born south or north of the Neck to know."

"Is that wise?" Marwyn asked. "This could just encourage those who were unsure of attempting it to become emboldened by the lack of threat. This could have the opposite effect, Egg."

"And if it does convince more of them to try, what of it? The next time it happens, they will be sentenced to death, either hung, beheaded, or burned. The choice will be theirs just as it was to forsake the women and children we have come here to protect."

Jon Snow seemed to agree with him. "If it happens again I would like to know. I will behead any Northmen or Free Folk myself."

"You won't, Lord Snow," Aegon exclaimed. "I will be taking their head. That is not your job or your duty. To desert from this army is to betray the King, and that would be me. You have no right to execute anyone in any name that is not mine while you stand in Westeros. I gave you the life of Theon, and I will not give you anyone else until you swear yourself to me."

Marwyn spat into the snow and stained it in red. "I'll make sure the word gets around." The bull-like man turned away and walked back out of the hidden grove with heavy steps.

"Shall we return now, Lord Snow? I still wish to arrive at Castle Black by tonight." Aegon untied both of their horses and handed the reins of the black gelding back over to Jon Snow who took them without a word. "Keep a close eye on the men, Loras." He ordered before kicking his horse into a trot after the Northern Bastard. "Did I hurt your feelings? Did I wound your pride?"

"That?" Asked Jon Snow. "No, but that play you put on was for nothing other than to do that. You wanted me to lash out and get angry."

"Did I?"

"I don't mean to insult you-"

"But you will." Aegon inferred with a smirk on his thin lips.

"You like to fool people. You like to play with their heads, and you like to see how they react. It's all a game to you." Despite his previous assertion that he was not angry it was hard to find his tone as anything but that.

"I do like to see how people react to given situations, Lord Snow. A game I find it not, however. Know how a man will react and respond and you will never have to ask the question or give the command. It can save you much time and strife to know a man better than he knows himself. Take this from one who once lived as a bastard and rose to be King, know that reading a man can make all the difference between life and death."

The dark haired man kept mostly quiet for the remainder of the ride. Most of the men wanted to stay put in Mole's Town and complained loudly as they passed by it. "I'm surprised more of them aren't here." Jon Snow said after they saw no brothers from the Night's Watch in Mole's Town. "I expected half of the garrison to be here whoring and too drunk to stand." The villagers all beamed at them and cheered as they rode through their town. Women of leisure beckoned them and made promises of pleasure while the elderly forced food and wood into the men's hands. A boy with blonde hair cropped close to his eyes and ruddy cheeks even gave Jon Snow a green apple and then called him a hero with tears in his eyes.

With every step Justice took, he felt as if he was climbed towards the gallows. They were not heroes, not yet. Heroes killed monsters, saved the innocent, and they won. Victory was not so assured, and it never was. One step, then another, and then another. He could only go forward now. Like before, he could not turn back and could not afford to look back. The village of Mole's Town was an all-around good thing for morale. It gave courage to the men and showed them just who they fought for. It was their children, their wives, their sons and daughters that they were here for. He hoped that each and every one of them remembered the children of Mole's Town before they even thought of dropping their weapons and fleeing. He knew he would.

The moon peeked out from above the grand expanse of ice that men named the Wall. They arrived just as Jon Snow said they would and Aegon should have felt happy to see it. It meant a warm hearth and a solid bed awaited him there. Castle Black was not what he had expected it to be. Jon Snow warned him to lower his expectations of it, but even so, it failed those too. Parts of it were built in stone which had long ago faded. The rest of the castle looked like they ran out of supplies to complete it and simply finished the rest with lumber. One of its towers leaned dangerously to the east, and another tower was broken and crumbled in the upper sections. Winterfell had two dozen more towers than Castle Black and even its most ruined one looked sturdier than any of the ones he saw before him. It was a disgrace that the Night's Watch was allowed to fall into such disrepair. What use were the builders if they could not rebuild simple towers? He knew not the answer to that question.

Fifty Tyrell men had already made it to the gates prior and they warned the Night's Watch of their coming arrival. He could see golden roses, falcons, and three-headed dragon banners flying above Castle Black. The first men of the Night's Watch he saw were dressed in black furs. Those men stood and watched them in silence from the first tower they rode by. When they passed the second tower some men openly fell to their knees and wept. "I know them." Jon Snow whispered to him. "I can't say I would call many of them friends." A man whose face was colored like that of a pomegranate ran out of a timber-built hall and nearly tumbled down the stairs in his haste to speak with them first. "He's the First Steward. His name is Bowen Marsh." Jon identified the man for Aegon. In return, the Silver King nodded his head towards Bowen who dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

Someone had not secured the banners well enough, as a blue falcon billowed towards him and he snatched it away from the gust. He had to tilt his head and duck from from the cloth rose that followed behind, and with a plop, it landed in the mud. "Pick that up and have it cleaned before Ser Garlan or anyone important sees it," Aegon commanded a knight who rode behind him. The last thing he needed on their first night in Castle Black was a brawl because of some unintended insult brought on by the wind.

"Can I take your horse, your Grace?" Asked a black-garbed man who looked like he had not slept in weeks. He had dark rings around his eyes and bright red lines stained the white of his eyes.

"Can you? If not find someone who can." Aegon told the man as he dropped from Justice and handed the reins over to him. "He's a good horse. He won't bite and doesn't kick without provocation." The man called Bowen Marsh ran to his side next and bowed again for some strange reason. "If you've elected a new Lord Commander, I need to see him."

"As you command." Exclaimed Bowen Marsh who struggled greatly to get off his knees without falling over. "I am happy to see you still alive, Jon." Jon Snow did not deem it necessary to respond to the man and instead looked at all his former brothers with a look of great sadness in his eyes. "A lot has happened since you left. Lord Commander Denys hung himself in his bedchamber. The idiot couldn't handle his tasks and took the coward's way out."

"You both can get reacquainted another time. I need to get a grasp on the situation we have here directly from your Lord Commander and then reassess my plans to direct my resources appropriately. You have some degree of power here, do you not?" The round man nodded. "I am commanding you to find places where my seventy thousand will be served best. When you're done, you will bring me your results, directly." With apprehension in his bones he waited for a mere moment before climbed up the stairs after Jon Snow. Bowen Marsh had the sense not to argue with him and ran as fast as he could into one of the nearby buildings to follow his orders. "Arthur, go and find Lord Randyll Tarly and tell him that I need him here now." His second squire did as he commanded. He remounted his pony and rode away from Castle Black. "Harrion, I need you to find Lord Arryn and order him on my behalf to set his men to the task of chopping down all the trees they can find. The more brittle the wood the better." His fourth squire nodded.

By the time he started up the stairs, he was forced to jump them three at a time to catch up with the Northern Bastard, who set a quick pace. "Last time I was here, the Shadow Tower was in desperate need of men and provisions. We'll need to spread ourselves thin if we have any hope of keeping the whole Wall. Nineteen castles will need to be garrisoned before the week ends."

"No need to sound quite so dour. Not since the days of the First Men has the Wall been home to such an army. We have accomplished a great thing here." Aegon forced his tired body to keep pace shoulder to shoulder with him. "Where are we going?"

Eddard Stark's bastard pointed his black gloved hand at a straight and round tower. "That tower." Jon Snow grimaced as he passed by a single man, who barely was stood even with assistance from his spear. "This isn't good. I expected many dead or missing, but not this, there is hardly anyone here."

The doors to the tower were opened before them, and they were ushered inside by two weathered brothers of the Night's Watch. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch wore a luxurious and large sable cloak on his shoulders that dwarfed even Aegon's and its tail piled on the floor. "Your Grace, thank you for answering the call. We are in desperate need." Exclaimed a thin and sharp-faced man with piercing blue eyes that made both Jon and himself gasp under their breaths. His face carried many scars and allusions to past battles. A long and dark beard grew from his face and hung down to his collar. "It is good to see you again, Jon." Said the man with odd familiarity.

"It appears you know me, Lord Commander, but alas I do not share that pleasure." From the corner of his eye Aegon looked at Jon, trying not to break his gaze of the Lord Commander. Jon Snow's gray eyes seemed to glaze over the longer he looked at the man. He looked almost to be in a daze.

"My name is Benjen Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the help as always, Ocadioan.
> 
> I've been dead tired lately and have lost a bit of my spark for this story. I'm not dropping it of course, but after 87 I may be taking a break to recharge myself and prepare for the last arc of part 1.


	87. Mother of Dragons

**Sansa:**

 

With each new monarch the Red Keep changed vastly. When she was just a girl, still naive to the ways of the south, the Great Hall was adorned with tapestries gained from grand hunts and trophies lined the walls. Robert Baratheon liked to keep signs of his conquests close at hand and easily noticeable. Joffrey favored tools of war and was favored to keep portraits and murals depicting warfare, death, and destruction. Anything to make people believe he was stronger than he ever was. He wanted them to fear and respect him, to acknowledge him. King Aegon Targaryen left his halls mostly bare. The only signs of wealth and opulence came from the Martells who liked to dress the the Red Keep in both Targaryen and Martell tapestries in equal measure. This new King by all appearances cared little for the baubles and decorations in his home. His attention was more focused on the decorum and actions of those in his hall.

Under this reign of the new Queen, that all changed. Artwork from the far east, figures from Slaver's Bay and strange vases depicting battles and lore lined the walls of the Red Keep now. In the Great Hall, nineteen skulls of dragons long dead hung from the walls, just as in times past. The biggest of the skulls looked impossibly heavy and the teeth were longer than any knight's lance. The smallest looked as if it fit in her hand and so brittle that it would crumble to dust from a gentle breeze. In place of King Aegon's dark attires of black and reds and purples, the Silver Queen wore silks and velvets in every color and style of Essos.

The Mother of Dragons lounged on top of the Iron Throne as if it was made for her and only her. "You may stand and approach, Lady Sansa." Her voice sounded strained and did not speak of elation or mercy. Sansa did as she was bid and quashed the fear in the pit of her stomach. She walked ten steps towards the throne and stopped when within arm's reach of the Queen's eunuch guard. Their armor was immaculate without a single stain or blood or speck of dust. On their heads, they wore spiked caps just like the rumors said they did. Each of the eunuchs carried a spear in their right hand and heavy bronze shields in their left, and they stood in perfect form. "Are you afraid of them?" The Queen asked her with a scowl that tugged on her pink lips.

Sansa nodded shallowly. "I am wary of anyone who carries a weapon, your Grace."

"I don't carry a weapon. Do you not fear me?"

Blue eyes met with purple for a mere moment before the blue faltered. "I am."

"Why? Do you think I mean to harm you?" Asked the Silver Queen.

"I don't know if you mean to harm me, your Grace. I wouldn't presume to know your mind. But I do know that you command those with weapons, and that makes you very dangerous. That is what frightens me." As Sansa said it, the bearish man's eyes grew hard and angry. The man always shadowed the Mother of Dragons wherever she went. He was undoubtedly in love with her. Everyone could see it, and the Targaryen did not return his feelings. She deemed only those looks on the garishly handsome Tyroshi man in her Queensguard.

"Your father was a dog of the Usurper. He conspired with Baratheon and Arryn to murder my father, my brother, and his children." The Silver Queen said it as if it was a question. She didn't know if the Mother of Dragons expected her to become angry. To defend her father's role in Robert's Rebellion. She would do neither and kept her eyes down and her mouth quiet. "Do you have anything to say?"

Sansa cautiously lifted her gaze from the boots of one of the pointy hatted eunuchs and instead stared at the Silver Queen's silk slippers. "My father did fight for Robert Baratheon, but he did not support or condone many things that happened. It is widely known that he fought with his friend Robert for Ser Jaime the Kingslayer to be sent to the Wall for his crimes. He was ignored. My father called the rape of Elia and the murder of her children unjustified crimes. He demanded that Robert punish the Lannisters. He was ignored again and left this city in anger." She blinked hard and said before closing her eyes. "And your nephew is still alive."

The Silver Queen's eyes grew even more suspicious and she recrossed her legs. "So the rumors have led me to believe. I captured Dragonstone from many men who claimed loyalty to him. A man named Aurane Velaryon claimed to be his master of ships." Daenerys' hand squeezed tighter then. "All my life, my brother told me that we were the last Targaryens in the world. He promised me that we would take back our home and bring Fire and Blood to those who wronged us. Not once did I ever hear of my nephew still living. Not once did he ever seek us out. Now I am to believe that he was alive all this time and what? Kept hidden until he could take back the Seven Kingdoms?"

That was exactly what he did. Sansa thought better of saying. "I can only retell you what I have been led to believe, nothing more."

"Tell us what you know, girl." Demanded Jorah Mormont the slaver. She knew him in passing, and knew that her father would have taken his head years ago if he had not fled like a coward.

"I am no girl, Ser Jorah Mormont. I am the Lady of all the Vale and I am a Stark of Winterfell. Regardless of what crimes I am or am not accountable for, I deserve that little amount of respect." Sansa did not deem the ugly man with a second look and returned her attention to the Mother of Dragons. "I have been told that he is who he says he is. He says he is Aegon the Sixth, son of Elia and Rhaegar Targaryen, and he was seated on that throne not three moons past."

"You've been told that, Lady Sansa." The Silver Queen at least saw fit to give her the respect that her advisor did not. "Tell me, do you believe him?"

She had never considered if he was lying or not. It never mattered to her. He said who he was and those who named him liar were his enemy, and there were not many of them still living. "I believe he believes he is Aegon Targaryen, but I cannot say for certain, your Grace." If he was a false dragon, Varys was every bit as skilled as she feared he was. For both Aegon and the Mother of Dragons looked nearly identical to each other. One was male and the other was female. The former had light and deceptively gentle eyes of violet and the latter a deep and hauntingly alluring purple.

"I struggle to find a reason why my ... nephew would ever pardon the dogs who murdered his family."

"He has not pardoned any of the dogs who took part in your family's betrayal." The words tasted poisonous, but she had long grown accustomed to the taste of lies. It was not betrayal, her father was well in his right. Rhaegar stole her aunt Lyanna and the Mad King murdered her grandfather and uncle. "Robert Baratheon died by a boar. My father was executed by my first betrothed. Lord Jon Arryn died of sickness. Tywin Lannister was slain by his own son, your nephew's Hand, Lord Tyrion Lannister." Even if Tyrion was determined to pretend otherwise. That action alone would be one of the few things that might save him now. "There is no one left to pay for those crimes."

"You are Eddard Stark's daughter." Again the Queen spoke as if there was some hidden question in her own words.

"I am."

"You could pay for his crimes. The Usurper's dogs did not overlook children in their lust for Targaryen blood. My brother's daughter Rhaenys was dragged from her bed kicking, screaming and they stabbed her half a hundred times." Daenerys, even in anger and disgust, looked fierce on the throne.

Sansa felt fear in her heart, but she could not be cowed into silence and meekness any longer. Nothing could be gained or saved by cowering. She would not let her child be murdered because she was too afraid of words and threats to speak. "You could punish me. You could have me beheaded, or you could have me fed to your children." Her voice nearly caught in her throat at the thought of the massive black and red dragon. "And if you did, it would be murder, just like the murder of Rhaenys, and it would be a crime. I have borne your family no ill will in all my life. I have not taken a single action against either you or your nephew."

The Silver Queen grew silent for a time. In that time she called both Ser Jorah Mormont and her Red Priest up the steps of the Iron Throne. By her side, they whispered things in her ear, dark things. Each time, before they said a word, both men stole glances towards her. Only Queen Daenerys watched her the whole time. Under her gaze Sansa did not feel like a wolf, but like prey. She now knew it was what other men and women felt when caught in Aegon Targaryen's sight. It was a feeling she did not like.

After the Mother of Dragons sent both men away she finally spoke in a calm and thin voice. "I will pardon you for your father's crime." It came as a strange relief to her. It almost felt a lifetime ago when she was pardoned for the same without so much as even a word uttered by the one men named the Dragon king. If you weren't hung or beheaded, that was your pardon. But Aegon was no Dragon king. Even if he flew the banners and wore the crowns and wielded the swords, he had no dragons. Both niece and nephew sat so differently on the Iron Throne. Daenerys sat like it was hers and only hers, she ruled from high on the throne and sat easily in it, almost lounging. Aegon sat tense, almost scared of it, his back always erect and held tight.

"Thank you, my Queen." The words came out easily and sounded truly thankful.

"It has become well known to my council and I that it was you who advised the gates and ports be opened for my arrival." Queen Daenerys deemed her worthy of a gentle smile then.

And the Martells advised we cut you down in your sleep. Sansa only returned the smile. The queen's Red Priest seemed strangely pleasant at the moment despite his frightening appearance. His staff made in the visage of a dragon crackled with green fire and with each tap of it on the floor the eyes glowed. "I did,"

"I thank you for it. I did not expect such loyalty from those in this city when I first saw it with my own eyes. If I heeded my own advisors this city would be ash." Those words were as powerful as a hammer blow to her tummy and made it lurch. "I am thankful it is not, for your sake."

As am I. Sansa swallowed down a hard lump in her throat and gathered more courage than she knew she had. "I also wish to ask for the pardon and release of Lady Myrcella Baratheon." When she said the name the entire hall grew as silent as a crypt. Even the Red Priest stopped his tapping and turned to look up at his queen.

"Why would I pardon her? Her father killed my brother. If the Kingslayer is her real father then the murder of my father now rests at her feet." Daenerys spoke calmly and quickly, almost perplexed that she would ask for such a thing. "Her brother killed your father, and you would ask for leniency?"

"I would." Sansa said plainly.

"Why?"

"For the same reason that you pardoned me, your Grace. I was once kept captive and held accountable for crimes not my own. I could not suffer that fate on anyone else, and she was innocent of that. She is not her father, nor her mother or grandfather." Sansa spoke to her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Both of the Silver Queen's advisors prepared to climb the dais to whisper in her ear again, but she stopped them with a motion of her hand. "Her uncle is the Hand of my ... supposed nephew. Tyrion is his name, correct?" She nodded her head and the Queen went on. "It would be unwise to bring harm on her. As you said, she is innocent. I will not bring harm to her, but since you found enough cause to speak on her behalf she will be your responsibility. Pray, and tell her to pray herself, that her uncle does not see fit to rebel against me. My hands on her fate will be tied if he does."

"If you treat his niece gently, I am sure he will not see cause to encourage strife." Sansa was quite sure that Tyrion would take far more heed of the Mother of Dragons' children first when he decided his next action. "He cares for her above all else. He disobeyed even King Aegon Targaryen's order for her sake."

"Prince Aegon." The Queen's words were like a whip. "If he is no false dragon then he is my nephew, and that is his appropriate title, Lady Arryn." The Targaryen squirmed on the throne and then leaned forward. "Are you an honest woman, Lady Arryn?"

Sansa nodded her head without question. "I am," She tried to be. The days of posing as a bastard from the littlest of the fingers were in the past. She was a Stark again and found her pack once more. She was the Lady of all the Vale and carried the heir to house of Arryn in her.

"Good," The Mother of Dragons smiled happily and looked as carefree as a child in play then. "how well do you know Princess Arianne?"

"Not as well as I would like." Sansa knew much more about the Lady Nymeria. More even than she liked to. The Princess kept herself far more secretive. Other than her Dornish paramour, she kept her secrets well-guarded. "She is a strong and clever woman, and not one that I would slight." Take what the Silver Queen might from her words, Sansa left it up to her to decide what she would or could not believe.

The Silver Queen wished to find as many allies as she could in Westeros. It would be foolish of her not to. "Can I trust her?" She would be great fool to trust a Martell, and even worse if she wished to wage war against her nephew for the Iron Throne. To strip Arianne of her heart's desire and expect cooperation simply would not do.

"No more than you can trust me." Daenerys Targaryen's eyes lit up in astonishment. "My husband is one of ... Prince Aegon's staunchest supporters. I can and will freely offer you counsel and advise you on certain matters. What I cannot offer you is anything more than that. I have no men to offer you and cannot give you the support of the Vale. If my house, either Stark or Arryn falls on an opposing side to yours I will not hesitate to take action against you. I say this not as a threat but as a warning. I will not dishonor myself."

"Honest," Sansa saw the word uttered under the Mother of Dragons breath. The Targaryen grew very quiet and Ser Jorah Mormont looked up for her next command. It could have ranged from a death sentence, to an indefinite imprisonment, a number of lashes. "Again, you are brutally honest, and this is the second time I find myself in need of giving you thanks." The Queen motioned one of her pointy hatted eunuchs who dragged a chair next to Sansa. "I accept your offer of counsel, and as one of my council you are permitted to sit."

It would be more than unwise to not sit when beckoned by a Queen, treasonous even. Sansa accepted the offer and the padded seat offered. "As your advisor, I would recommend you trust no one here. Everyone is after something and all of them will sell your secrets and confidence if they can gain from it."

"And what do you hope to gain?" Asked the Red Priest with a light accent.

Sansa cocked her head in his direction and replied. "Safety and security for my family."

"So would you counsel me not to trust the Martells either? I share blood with them." The Queen spoke with true hurt hidden behind her words.

"I would only counsel you to be wary. While you share blood with Princess Arianne, Prince Aegon has more. His mother was her aunt and she hopes to be his Queen." Sansa's blue eyes met with the Mother of Dragons' and she said pointedly. "There can only be one Queen. She fears that her brother, Prince Quentyn, will steal both a crown and Dorne from her." Sansa could not help but notice the Silver Queen's shoulders tighten at the mention of Prince Quentyn's name. "If you seek the throne for yourself, be very wary of them."

If the Mother of Dragons ignored her warnings and drew them close she would have no one to blame other than herself. Sansa would not out the Martell's plots of murder and put herself in place of the Silver Queen. "I will keep your words close to heart."

"In return, I ask that you remember this counsel as coming from your own mind."

The implications of her words were apparent to both men and their Queen. The latter nodded her head once in response. "I must ask you one more question today. Tomorrow or the day after, I'm sure I will have more." The Silver Queen leaned ahead closer and she asked. "Do you believe Prince Aegon is truly who he claims to be?"

Sansa never truly found a reason to doubt him. He looked the part and older men and women both claimed to see his alleged parents in him. If he was not who he was supposed to be, then he was the most perfect of all hoaxes. He had the sword, the crown, he shared the Queen's hair, and the only thing she had over him was her children. "I think he believes he is Prince Aegon Targaryen. I find myself with little reason to doubt him. If you wish to find the truth you should start with the Spider. He would know. I have found him to be your nephew's staunchest ally." No matter how hard they looked, they would never find the eunuch, that, she was sure of. Sansa expected he was already in the Riverlands and riding to the North to warn his chosen king.

"I certainly will, just as soon as he is located." The Silver Queen folded her hands in her lap and squinted her eyes. "I presume he did not mention his departure to you or where he could be found." The Stark woman nodded her head and the Targaryen continued. "That is a true pity. I imagine he will turn up in time if we are patient." Her skirts billowed as she stood to her feet and her eunuch guards butted their spears against the floor. "I thank you for meeting with me today." She said as if Sansa could have ignored her request. "However, I have taken up enough of your time and I have many more appointments today. Tomorrow at noon in this room?"

Lady Arryn stood to her feet and curtsied with perfect form. "Of course, your Highness. Thank you."

"Grey Worm, please escort Lady Arryn to the door and to her entourage." The Silver Queen commanded. With a grunt, a stocky and solemn eunuch broke from the line and placed his armaments with another.

Without a single word uttered, he stiffly offered his arm to her. "Thank you, you are too kind." Sansa replied in her sweetest voice to the strange eunuch. In a slightly overexcited pace, he led her from one side of the throne room to the other. His eyes never broke from his destination, and yet he was quite gentle, so as to not harm her. As they reached the door, she took one look over her shoulder and spotted the Fire Priest and Ser Jorah the slaver on each side of the Silver Queen muttering to her again. "Good day." She said to the eunuch as he released her arms and two other eunuchs opened the door for her to step out. He said nothing in response and simply bowed his head before stepping back towards the Queen.

Not after three steps did a warm and buxom body cling to her. "I was so worried that the worst would befall you." Exclaimed Arianne Martell. Where she once seemed exotic and worldly to Sansa, she now seemed quite resigned compared to those who followed the Dragon Queen.

Sansa forced a grin and returned the woman's embrace. "I cannot even begin to tell you what your concern for me means." She gently touched her belly and added. "Your concern for both of us."

The Princess of Dorne smiled like a cat. "When I heard you were summoned here, I ran here post haste and demanded they let me in." The short woman turned to look at the two eunuchs who manned the door. "I fear these savages do not speak the common tongue and while Ser Daemon recommended we simply force our way in, I thought better to wait and listen."

"Again I am humbled by both of your compassion." She danced this dance quite well and Sansa knew very well that Arianne could not have heard either herself or the Silver Queen from out here, even if they had been screaming. If you betrayed me, I will make you believe I know. "Our Queen is quite compassionate and fair. She has not only offered me a full pardon, but she has offered me an advisory role on her council."

"How wonderful!" Arianne Martell exclaimed and her nails lightly dug into Sansa's palms. "I cannot think of anything more fair and just. You have a sound mind and are one of the few ladies I have found myself continually impressed with outside of my homeland. No doubt with you advising our new Silver Queen a coming peace between King Aegon and herself is not long away." Sansa did not doubt the coming peace Arianne hoped for involved the Mother of Dragons dead or removed from King's Landing and a crown placed on her own head with a dragon growing in her belly.

A small and dusky girl then slid out from within the throne room and said in a strong voice. "Princess Arianne of the house Nymeros and Martell; daughter of Prince Doran Martell and Lady Mellario of Norvos. You are hereby summoned by Daenerys of House Targaryen the first of her name, the Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt and the Breaker of Chains."

The Princess of Dorne pulled Sansa close and kept her eye on the girl as she whispered. "If our Queen claims anymore titles, we will need to keep slips of paper on our person to keep them straight." Both women politely giggled and then Arianne turned towards the girl. "May you be so kind as to give me your name?"

"This one is called Missandei of Naath, Princess." The girl quickly turned and slid back between the ajar doors, still not completely opened by the eunuchs.

"Mayhaps we can meet for supper tonight?" Sansa asked the buxom woman.

Arianne nodded her head enthusiastically. "Oh, we certainly must and will. I shall invite my sweet cousin Nym and you should invite Myrcella to join us too." Sansa in truth did not truly desire to spend any more time with this conniving woman than she needed to. However, appearances must be kept and they must appear friendly and united in the face of the Mother of Dragons.

"Of course. I eagerly await tonight already." The Lady Arryn bowed her head and watched as the Princess entered the throne room with a practiced ease and comfort to each step. Enjoy our new Queen. Sansa just prayed this one was far more level headed than the one who preceded her. She turned to the Captain of her guard, who waited patiently with his hand resting on his holstered axe. "Harwyn, go and locate both Mya and Ser Brune and bring them to my chambers. I have work to do and I have need of them both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh boy, hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> As always thanks for the help Ocadioan.


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